Young Blood
by kevzgurl
Summary: After returning to WWE in 2002 Kevin Nash struggles to keep his buddy, Scott Hall, out of hot water when he begins a physical relationship with Reves Calaway, Mark's young daughter. But when Nash finds himself growing haplessly attracted to Heather, Reves's younger sister, he knows it can only spell tragedy for everyone involved.
1. Chapter 1

Hello everyone. So this story wil be a complete revamp and rewrite of my original fanfic, Cry Wolf. This story has been given a new name, Young Blood. As I do want to keep the original posted here as well, it may help avoid confusion.

I know what you are probably thinking. Why would I want to revisit an old story from over a decade ago? Well, as I was posting the last forgotten chapters of the sequel, I went back to reread the original as well and well, as you can probably imagine, I just wasn't happy and I felt the story had a lot of potential of done in a not so cringy way ( but probably not). Anyway, I know a lot of people actually do this. There will be quite a few differences from the original as well.

So I do hope you enjoy this if you are reading.

* * *

"I will tell you what she was like. She was like a piano in a country where everyone has had their hands cut off." - Angela Carter, _Black Venus_

"Okay, let's do it again, and this time, don't screw it up!"

"Yeah, cause I totally did that on purpose," the girl snipped at her older sister.

"Whatever," the older girl snorted, "Just find your spot."

The younger girl's fingers plodded over the keys of the electric keyboard searching for the right note. "Okay," she said, adjusting herself on the edge of the bathtub where she sat.

"Three, two, one," the older girl counted down as she hit the button on the analog recording device. Smiling big, she watched and listened as her sister's nimble fingers pushed out the awesome drum loop on the synthetic instrument. When she was in her element, her sister was so graceful. Usually.

All of a sudden there was a horrific pounding on the door. The girl at the keyboard gave a start, tumbling backwards into the tub. The other huffed and switched off the recorder with a look of contempt clouding her face.

"What the hell? Open the door," a voice boomed from the other side.

The older girl got up, unlocked the door and sat back down on the closed toilet seat.

The door inched open, but was halted by the object stuffed underneath it. The tall, burly figure was trying to force his way inside when he looked down to the floor. "Aww, hell," his deep, Texan accent said as he yanked a hotel towel out from under the crack of the door.

He made his way fully into the bathroom, looking at the two faces staring back at him. One was glaring at him, already out of patience, a trait she no doubt inherited straight from him. The other, though mildly annoyed, looked meekly up at him with wide eyes.

"What the fuck are ya doin' now?" he inquired in a stern voice.

"We were recording a song," the older girl crossed her arms in agitation.

Mark Calaway sighed heavily as he rubbed his eyes, dragging his hands down over his face. Why, oh why, did he let his wife talk him into this? Teenagers were hard under normal circumstances. This? This was a nightmare sometimes.

Mark was one of the top guys in World Wrestling Entertainment, the most dominate wrestling corporations in the world. Despite the fact that his character, The Undertaker, was one of the most fearsome entities to ever step foot inside the squared circle, he was convinced the teen years were a curse, straight from Lucifer, with the sole intent of torturing parents.

He loved his girls, more than anything, but truth be told, he prayed daily they would tire of traveling and tell him that they wanted go home. As evidence, so far, he had no luck.

The two girls peered up at their father. He certainly was fear inducing at six foot, ten inches tall. He was built like a brick wall, covered in tattoos and always wore a somber expression on his face.

"So, what's up, Dad?" the elder sister asked, hoping he'd be brief.

"I'm going to lunch with a couple of old buddies who've rejoined the company. Was wondering if you wanted to come with me, or if you wanted to stay here and I'll order some delivery for you," he said.

Both girls' faces fell.

"Can't we see a movie?" the younger girl finally spoke up.

"No. I have to head to the arena afterword, so there's no time. Besides, downtown can be a dangerous place and you're not going out by yourselves."

"Doesn't matter any other time," the older girl grumbled, low.

Mark's head snapped towards her. "You wanna run that by me again, missy?"

She shook her head, her continence neither fearful nor challenging.

"You can watch something on HBO. But we're going to that sushi restaurant we ate at the last time we were here. You liked that, didn't you?"

The sisters looked at each other, mulling it over. Sometimes, their dad's friends could be real jerks, or just plain weird. Always regaling who had gotten the most plastered during the last run or who could get the most "pussy".

Still, they were tired of being trapped in these hotels all the time. Sure, they got to hang out at the arenas, but so many times, they would get dropped off after the show, so their dad could go out with his friends.

Why were they even there, the older girl wondered? Oh yes, he was relieving his guilt. Good job.

The younger sister looked at her with that "sympathy for the devil" expression and shrugged her shoulders. She rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Ok, let's go."

"Alright. We'll be leaving in about ten minutes," Mark warned them and left.

"Perfectly ruined. Again," the older sister griped, padding her hands against the keys in a disorderly fashion.

"We'll try again later. You loved that sushi, remember?" the younger girl cooed, running a brush through her hair.

"Yeah, yeah," she replied dismissively as she approached the mirror to touch up her makeup.

As they approached the restaurant, Mark told the girls, "Heather, it's okay to talk. And Rev, you can be yourself, but with less of an attitude."

"Where's the fun in that?" the older girl asked.

Mark simply gave her the look and they continued on.

They entered the restaurant and were greeted by the hostess. Mark informed her they were meeting friends and she led them towards the booth where the other men were seated.

As they walked, Heather, the younger daughter, felt her anxiety rising. She didn't like meeting new people and found herself wishing they had stayed in the room.

The hostess gestured them to the booth letting them know a server would be with them promptly.

"Hey yo," a man with a rugged looking five o'clock shadow and long, dark hair pulled back into a braid greeted them with a small wave. His dark hair matched his deep brown eyes.

Another, larger man, about Mark height and build, also had a long mane, except blonde. He sported a goatee similar to Mark's as well. He lifted his head and smiled. "What's up, brother?"

"Not much, man. Bustin' my ass, as always," Mark replied with a laugh. "Oh, uh these are my girls. That's Reves and this is Heather." He gestured to each of them in turn. "Girls, this is- "

"Scott Hall and Kevin Nash," Reves interjected with her arms folded across her chest, impatiently.

Mark's eyes flashed in anger. He was about fed up with the girl's attitude. If not for Scott and Kev sitting there, he probably would have let loose on the girl. How long was she going to punish him? "Just sit down," he told her, swallowing his rage.

As this occurred, Hall and Nash took the girls in. It was evident by Reves' sour visage that this was not her idea of fun. As soon as they approached, her aura was that of contempt. They could tell she was the rebel. At least, that's what she was in her mind, complete with leather jacket and all.

She stood about five foot six inches tall, with waist length, ash blonde hair that bordered on a platinum tone. Her ocean colored eyed were like two icy pools staring back at them. She had a pert nose and her full lips were pursed as if she were giving her best Stephanie McMahon impersonation. Her eyes were encircled with more eyeliner than should be legal for any one person the wear. Her skin was pale and smooth. She was beautiful – if she would wipe off that sour puss look and some of that eye make-up, Scott had thought.

The younger sister, Heather, was equally as beautiful but almost the polar opposite. Aside from a few shared features, it was hard to believe they were related, let alone, related to Mark. Heather was a petite five-foot one inch with a tiny frame. Like her sister, her hair cascaded in long tendrils down her back. However, instead of ash blonde, Heather's hair was a deep ebony that she had accented with purple streaks.  
Her head had been bowed as they approached and when she raised it to look at them, Kevin was taken back a bit by the striking emerald eyes that glanced at them from behind a pair of black framed glasses. They were Mark's eyes, unmistakably. Yet, unlike the stern seriousness that Mark exuded, there was an unnamed sadness peering out at them that was completed by her full lips in a frown. Her complexion was even fairer than that of her sister's. An identical nose to her sister's sat in the middle of her round face.

Somehow, she reminded Kevin a little of Snow White in her appearance and meekness. He laughed at himself internally. He was pretty sure she wouldn't be boarding with seven other men anytime soon, not as long as the Deadman was walking around above ground.

When Mark instructed them to sit, Heather obediently scrambled in first. She sat, pretending to fascinated by the scenes of paper temples and tree cutouts housed between two plates of glass.

With a huff, Reves slide in next and Mark was on the end.

Just then, the server came up to take their order.

"I'll have some hot tea. And I'd like some Miso soup too," Reves said without hesitation.

"Same. Please," Heather mumbled.  
Everyone placed their orders and the server left to put them in.

"So, you lazy fucks finally decided to come back to work, eh?" Mark joked.

Kevin snorted, "You mean to tell me if you were paid a year's salary to sit on your ass, you wouldn't fuckin' do it?"

Hell no, he wouldn't, Reves thought.

"Damn, it'd be nice to have more time for my other projects, but I think, I'd go outta my mind being at home all the time," Mark answered while scratching his chin.

See? Reves asked mentally.

"I don't know, man. A lot of people got fucked by giving up their paydays," Scott said. "Look at Page."

Heather and Reves were aware he was speaking of Diamond Dallas Page, also known as DDP for short. He was a part of the whole stalker angle from last year during the Invasion which involved their mother, Sara. Dallas was not a bad guy by any means, but the entire ordeal had left a bad taste in everyone's mouth and his career was never truly able to recover.

"Guess I can't blame you there," Mark shrugged. "But you guys are Vince's boys. I don't think he's gonna do that shit to you."

"No, not after he gets in a good ass pounding, without the courteous of spit." Nash joked.

Heather's eyes bulged upon hearing that and dawned a crimson mask. She turned towards the wall once more. Reves suppressed a snicker.

"Dude!" Mark narrowed his eyes and cocked his head to the left.

"Shit." Kevin cleared his throat. "Sorry."

"So, is it true you guys killed WCW?" Reves asked, elbow propped on the table, chin resting in her palm. "Not so much you," she said to Scott. "But dirt sheets are pretty harsh on you." She directed her statement to Kevin.

Kevin glared at her. Cute. Another fucking mark tagging along with Daddy.

Scott on the other hand, grinned back at her. "Now what do you know about this business, little lady?"

"Only what I hear," she replied with a wry smile. "And see." She nodded her head in his direction.

"Hush, girl. You don't know nothin," Mark chided her.

At that, the raven-haired girl stole a glance at her father. A slight grin creeped across her face.

The older girl looked at her and recognized her intentions. She stifled her laughter. "Don't," she warned her.

"Don't what?" Mark inquired suspiciously.

Reves glanced at her sister, then turned to her dad. "She was just going to correct you on your use of a double negative," Reves stated matter of fact.

Not looking at her father, Heather pushed her glasses up on her face. A reflex of silent conformation.

Mark rolled his eyes and leaned forward to speak to his youngest child. "Girl, when I need a college degree to be a pro wrestler, I'll take that into consideration."

Remembering the others were there, Heather shrunk back inside herself.

Their food was delivered and as they ate Scott asked, "Yo, how did these two beautiful girls come from your ugly ass?"

Mark laughed, "Fuck you, man." A moment later he became austere. "Those are my daughters, by the way. I'd watch your mouth." He gave Hall a stone-cold glare.

Heather glanced up. So that was the way it was going to go? Another couple of creeps to contend with? She opened the small plaid backpack sitting on her lap. She slipped on her headphones and switched on her portable CD player. Next, she pulled out a copy of The Great Gatsby from her bag.

Kevin watched her, a little surprised. Most girls her age only read fashion magazines. Then again, she didn't strike him as the type to concern herself with the latest runway trends.

"So, what are you listening to?" She heard him ask after a few minutes. She had felt his eyes on her, but she fought the overwhelming urge to crawl under the table. Instead, she paused her music, pulled her headphones off and let them rest around her neck. Her eyes darted around quickly, as if wistfully thinking there was someone else, he could be talking to. She always found it agonizing when her dad's friends - or anyone from the business for that matter – engaged her in conversation.

"Veruca Salt," she finally answered after a painful minute. "Currently. But this a mixed compilation I made. And this," she said holding up the front of the book, "is The Great Gatsby." Her face immediately turned crimson. Well that was idiotic of you. I'm fairly certain he can read, she told herself.

"That's all that one does is read books," Mark commented, bringing a spicy tuna roll to his mouth.

Heather's blush became even brighter as she pushed her glasses up on her nose again.

"And what do you do?" Scott directed towards Reves.

"Everything in her power to put me in an early grave," Mark quipped.

Reves shifted her eyes. "Says the Deadman."

Mark raised an eyebrow at her and she gave him a cheeky grin.

"So, how is Sara? Are they planning to use her anymore on TV?" Scott inquired.

"She's good, but they aren't planning to use her for anything else right now. They got me in this 'Big Evil' gimmick at the moment, so we'll see, I guess."  
"What about the boys?" Scott questioned.

"They've been looking after the bike shop for a while now. They both love bikes and classic cars. Bought 'em a '67 Mustang as a project they're working on right now," Mark told them.

"That's fucking sweet," Kevin said, nodding.

"Bet they'll be pimpin' in that," Scott laughed.

Heather and Reves exchanged glances at one another. Why did everyone seem to know Marcus and Steven, a set of twins who were the spitting image of their father? It seemed obvious to the sister's that they were treated as if they didn't exist before coming on the road. They were sure the reasoning behind it, though the sisters had differing opinions. Still, Marcus and Steven got to go on the road a lot more when they were younger. For all they knew, it was chalked up to the notion that boys got more excited about the fact that their dad beat people up for a living.

"I didn't remember you even had daughters." Kevin admitted.  
Well, of course you didn't! Reves sneered inside her head as she folded her arms over her chest and fell back against the bench.  
Heather sat quietly, grateful to have been past recollection.

"It's been a long time, man. Running on different circuits doesn't give a lot of time to catch up," Kevin said.

"I suppose we'll be seeing a lot more of each other, if you fucks stick around, that is," teased Mark.

"Oh, we will. WWE is the place to be," Scott beamed.

"I don't think we have anywhere else to go," Kevin turned to him with a smile.

They finished their meal. Then it was time to head to the arena to be briefed on the show's events.


	2. Chapter 2

"Is it really necessary to drag all this crap along?" Mark asked with a shake of his head. The girls looked at him and he wondered why he bothered asking.

He watched his youngest lugging the keyboard that rivaled her tiny stature. He sighed and took it from her, balancing it against his body with his left arm, while he carried his duffle bag which contained his ring gear on his right shoulder .

They made it to Mark's locker room to get settled in. Luckily, their father being one of the top performers - and not mention one of Vinnie Mac's boys – afforded him one of the few private dressing rooms. Both girls resolved that hanging out in the same room as a bunch of testosterone filled dudes would have reached it's fill quickly.

"I've got to talk to Vince. Then I have a few things to check on." He looked at them sternly, "Try not to get yourselves on trouble."

Heather nodded obediently while Reves scoffed.

"I mean it," his voice became a little gruff. He exited the room, closing the door behind him.

Reves waited a couple of minutes. She went to the door, opening it and checking both directions.

"You aren't thinking of making mischief, are you?" Heather questioned with apprehension.

" Always," Reves grinned wolfishly. "Unfortunately, not this time," she added, "Remember that janitors closet in corridor B we found that one time? I think it would be great for sound proof recording."

" I think Dad wants us to stay here," Heather replied in a low voice.

Reves's blue orbs flashed in annoyance, "We aren't hurting anyone. We're just recording our music. Don't be such a goody-two-shoes."

Heather huffed and rolled her eyes at the jab as she got up from the couch. She didn't know why such an elementary jest vexed she so.

The teenagers carted their equipment to the next corridor, locating the janitorial closet Reves had mentioned. It was cramped and filled with all sorts of cleaning products and tools, but it rendered enough room to work.

They sat up the keyboard stand with the keyboard on it and the recorder.

" No distractions. Let's pound this out," Reves commanded.

"Easy for you to say," Heather bit back as she double checked the setting on the keyboard.

"Look, I can't be bothered to learn all these instruments. It's not _my _fault you know both piano and guitar."

"Tell me about it," Heather mumbled, straightening her position on the creates of floor cleaner which she sat upon. She placed he fingers over the keys. "Well, I'm ready," she told her sister, and she cued the recorder. Heather's slender fingers danced in the same rhythm that she played earlier in the hotel bathroom.

Reves watched the look on her sister's face, fondly. She knew the younger girl enjoyed playing her instruments as much as she also enjoyed singing, or even reading. Reves remembered some years ago, begging for music and singing lessons. Begging as it was, was a loose term, really. The four if them (her and her three siblings) need merely ask and it was done – within reason, of course. She was well aware that this was ninety percent the results of guilt on her father's part, yet they profited from it, never the less.

* * *

Hall and Nash had arrived to the arena an hour late and had the pleasure of being greeted by sideways glares and murmurs from a fair majority of the locker room and other staff.

"Looks like we're still a couple of the most popular boys back here," Kevin said with a smirk, running his hand through his blonde hair.

" You know it, Chico," Scott returned.

They were well aware that people hated the fact that they were returning to WWE, especially entrenched in their infamous New World Order gimmick. Their alliance with the immortal Hulk Hogan, everyone's one beloved hero, ignited the spark that would come to be known as the "Monday Night Wars", a phenomenon that turned the wrestling world on it's head and forever changed the business.

It may sound like a hard burden to have to bare, but if anyone could carry it, it was these men. And they did so proudly, not giving a second thought to what anyone thought of them. At the moment, they were on their way to meet up with Hogan, then on to Vince's office. The nWo was making its WWE debut tonight at the No Way Out pay per view.

* * *

Heather finished up with a triumphant smile on her face. This was the last layer they needed to complete their demo song, "_Shadow of a Promise_".

They switched off the machines and stood. "Let's go get a CD and we can start mixing this," Reves said eagerly.

Heather, whom had the closest proximity to the door, reached for the handle. She have it a turn, but it seemed stuck. She made another attempt but to no avail. "Rev, I don't think I can get the door open."

Reves approached the door. "Move," she commanded, slightly shoving the younger girl out of her way. She jiggled the handle, but it wouldn't budge. "What the hell?" she questioned with exasperation. She pushed and shunted against the door with her shoulder. Her frustration raised. She pressed her back against the door, digging the soles of her black boot against the concrete.

All of a sudden, the door swung open and the girls found themselves falling away. Reves landed square on her back outside in the hallway. Heather, whose hand had been resting on the door, came crashing down over her sister's body with a heavy thud. A painful groan escaped Reves's lips.

"Whoa!" they heard a deep voice exclaim.

"What the hell?" Another questioned.

Still lying over her sister, Heather looked immediately to get right. Noticing two pairs of shoes she followed her gaze all the way up the their perplexed expressions. Her face flushed a deep crimson and she gave a small gasp. Standing over them, fixed in bewilderment, were Kevin Nash and Scott Hall. Heather was frozen in mortification as they stared down at the two girls.

"Heather! Get the hell off me," her sister's shrill voice called out to her from a distant land as she was being pushed away.

Reves picked herself up off the cold floor, brushing off. Meanwhile, Heather sat back on her heels. Her eyes averted to the ground. Reves gazed down at her sister with agitation. "Heather, get up!" she barked as she rubbed a sore spot on her back.

Hopping to compliance, she rose, her mantle deepening.

There was an awkward silence, then after a moment Kevin asked, "Just out of curiosity, do you always lock yourselves in broom closets?"

Reves huffed. "We didn't lock ourselves in, okay?"

"Yo, calm down, Chica," Scott told her, "I don't know what else it means to be stuck I side the closet, but if you say so…"

"Why the hell were you in there, though?" Kevin questioned.

Reves' visage became a rare bright blush. "Well, if you must know, we were recording a song," she said, crossing her arms over her chest defensively.

" Recording a song?" The two men looked at one another, skeptically. The were not sure if they should laugh or be intrigued.

Heather witnessed the exchange and cringed. They probably thought that the sister's were delusional or had the intellect of a rock.

"Yes," Reves snipped. She too, was battling embarrassment. Neither sister liked to speak about their work until it was fully finished. "What does it matter? God, all of you are so nosy! _Look at those little teenagers over there. What in the blue he'll are they doing now?" _She spouted in a mocking voice.

Heather's heart stopped and she had a sharp intake of breath. Some of the wrestlers would tell Mark if the girls got out of line. Some would look for excuses to keep them away from the arenas. Every time Reves would get cocky with John Layfield, he would run and tell their once threatened to throw her over his knee and beat her, himself (not that it phased Reves what so ever). When they went to the next town they would be restricted from going to the arena and made to stay in the hotel room nearly the entire time.

"Rev!" Heather exclaimed, tugging on her sister's shirt sleeve. " Don't be so derisive. They're going to tell Dad on us!"

Heather could feel the blonde goliath's hazel eyes fixed on her, but it was the smaller man who spoke, "Nah, Chica. See we ain't really the tattle tailin' types."

"Unless of course, it suits sour benefit," Kevin chimed in with a smirk.

Heather glanced up with a worrying expression in her doe eyes. Meanwhile, Reves fought the grin that was creeping across her cheeks. Maybe these guys weren't half bad?

" Anyway, Kev we gotta go. Old Vinnie ain't gonna be too pleased with us," Scott reminded him.

"Yeah," Kevin answered him. "Best advice is, stay out of the closet." He gave the girls a jesting glance as he began to walk away.

The two men looked at each other, shaking their heads. Last they checked, not many hit were made in the closet, but they could see how the boredom could set in. Life on the road was difficult for grown men. It was not one for teens, especially a pretty pair such as them. Never the less, that was Mark's decision.

"Well, that wasn't at all mortifying," Heather groused when they were gone.

Reves turned towards her as if being broken from a train of thought. "It wasn't that bad," she argued , willing the heat in her cheeks to leave. "C'mon. Let's get the CD." She linked her sister's arm with hers.

On their way back to their dad's locker room they came across some of their favorite people in the WWE, Amy Dumas -better known as Lita- and Matt and Jeff, the Hardy Boyz. The trio was younger and had a lot more in common with the sisters than a lot of the old wrestlers.

"Oh, hey girls. What's up?" Matt greeted them.

"Oh. Hi." Reves perked up some, waving towards them.

"Hey," Heather smiled, sweet and shy.

" Uh oh. Rev, who pissed you off?" Jeff asked in that distinctive Carolina accent. Although her face had brightened, she still carried an aura of annoyance.

"She's upset because we got ourselves trapped in the janitor's closet," Heather volunteered.

Reves was staring daggers at Heather who shrunk back.

Amy laughed at them playfully. "So, do you have any new stuff?"

" It's not ready yet," Reves replied teasingly.

The sister's had always admires the threesome known as Team Extreme. They pushed the envelope with every match and possessed great heart and tenacity. They followed their dreams fearlessly. They were like square pegs in a round hole. They just had something different. They sister felt they were different too.

"Well, promise us, you'll give us first listen." Amy nudged Reves.

"Of course," Heather smiled.

They parted ways from the trio. They had a lot of free time for the rest of the afternoon until the end of the show. Their dad may pop in to check on them periodically, but they knew for the most part, he had disappeared for the rest of the night.


	3. Chapter 3

The next day and that evening's Raw has passed rather uneventful for the girls.

Mark was given a couple of days off afterwards. Once Mark had finished his segments, they caught a red eye from Chicago back home to Houston. It seemed Sara was already asleep, so they dragged their luggage upstairs to get some rest.

The girls happily snuggled into their familiar beds. As fun as it was traveling and getting to see the world, neither if them could deny the softness of their pillows or the feel of their favorite comforter wrapped around them.

Mark felt the same way, but to a greater extent. Life on the road was by no means easy. He made a great deal of sacrifices to do what he did. His body suffered, his kids suffered and sometimes, his marriage even suffered. He thought about this as he changed into a pair of gym shorts to go to sleep.

He looked at his sleeping wife, Sara, her blonde hair framed out around her. He couldn't blame her for not being in a good mood a lot if the time. They sometimes argued a lot more than he would like, but the burden of raising four kids practically on her own got to her a lot. Still, that is why Mark did what he did, so money would never be an issue again and they could focus on the kids.

As he crawled into bed, he kissed his wife. She turned towards him, nuzzling close. "I'm glad you're home," she mumbled groggily.

The Raw after party was in full swing. Though it was more like Bingo night at the senior center compared to the old WWF days or their time in WCW. Hogan, Hall and Nash had hit a local bar and were greeted by some of their colleagues.

Where was everyone's party? Damn, they need Kid and Shawn. They remembered when Mark would bring out tray after tray of Jack. Nash smiled, despite the fact that just thinking of the smell made want to puke.

"Hey fellas," they were greeted by Steve Williams, known to the wrestling world as Stone Cold Steve Austin. Over the next coming weeks, they were going to be working with Steve a lot. As the nWo poison, they were setting their sights to take down the biggest stars in WWE. They had already " taken care of" The Rock earlier in the night.

In real life though, Steve was one of Nash's closest friends and they were happy to catch up. The group of men spent the next few hours shooting the shit and drinking until they couldn't see straight.

"Mom, you're being so unreasonable," Reves moaned.

Sara put down the large knife she was using to chop lettuce for the salad that would go with dinner. "Don't you think you spend enough time away from home?" she asked with a sigh.

"But Dad never let's us do anything!"

Sara looked at her daughter, shaking her head. She wanted to go out to a movie. Was it so much to ask for a little family time? Even with four kids and a husband, Sara often felt lonely. He husband was always on the road, but now that her daughters had been traveling with him for the last month or so the house got emptier, quieter. She even sometimes missed the squabbling of the boys verses the girls. Her son's spent much of their time at the shop, or with their girlfriends. She knew they were probably baring a grudge that the girls were the one that got to go on the road, see the sights and hang out with the wrestlers. Mark had charged them with looking after the shop while he was gone. He even bought them a '67 Mustang as a fixer-up project they worked on when he was home. That is where the three of them were now.

"You know," Sara said, exhaling sharply, " why don't you go ride those horses your dad has spent so much money on? I think he should get rid of them, really. You two never ride them. And as it is, you don't take any responsibility to them while you are here."

Heather, who had been quiet as a church mouse the whole time, steadily shifted her eyes to her mother as she stood helping to dice tomatoes.

"I've had to start paying the Bedson boy to help with some of the chores around the ranch, since everyone seems to want to disappear on me," Sara added.

Reves rolled her eyes. "So what, you want us to go ride the freakin' horses?"

"I didn't tell you I wanted you to do anything," Sara replied, not looking at her.

Reves scoffed hopping off the bar stool which she was sitting upon. " C'mon, Heather," she said, grabbing at her sister's hand.

Heather put down the knife and wiped her hands on a towel. " You sure you Don't need help?" she offered.

Her mother shook her head. " No. Go on." She took the cutting board from her daughter and added the tomatoes to the bowl with the rest of the salad ingredients.

She put the bowl in the refrigerator and sighed. She was worried about the kids. It had been a rough few months, especially for the girls. Still, the boys didn't have it any easier. They felt neglected, she knew that for a fact.

The girls changed into a pair of old jeans, a tank top and riding boots that had been sitting in their closets, collecting dust. They pulled their long tendrils into high ponytail and headed down to the stables.

The stables housed the girls stallions and a few other animals. Heather owned a chestnut Andalusian, while Reves's was a gray. The girls were quite young when they begged Daddy for a pony. What little girl didn't want one? To their present chagrin the animals were named after Disney equestrians as the sister were avid fan. Phillippe belonged to Heather as Pegasus was Reves's.

As Reves approached the pen, Pegasus snorted and reared back, kicking.

" Calm down, you beast," Reves said gruffly.

" Ahhh. It's alright. Shhh," Heather coaxed the horse softly patting its body and petting its nose. "Don't mind Rev. She's just being a Grimy Gus. I think he's mad at you," she said, turning towards her sister.

"Well, he can get glad on the same horseshoes he got mad on," Reves stated, grabbing a bridal.

Reves saddled up Pegasus rather quickly and mounted the stallion.

Off in the distance they could hear a low rumbling as it came closer. Reves squinted her eyes to make out the approaching figure. A grin started to tug at her lips. "Swoon, here comes your boyfriend," she said imitating Tie Frasier from the Clueless film.

Heather turned to see an ATV making its way closer to the stables. She sighed in heavy exasperation, "Heck." With much strain she grabbed the saddle for Phillippe. Her sister watch her from atop the horse's back, smirking slightly. "Rev, are you just going to leave me here? Come on, help me!" Heather pleaded with her sister in desperation as she struggled to lift the saddle onto the animal's back.

Reves batted her eyelashes with a _devil may care_ expression. "What are sister's for?" she mused, shrugging her shoulders. Then she snapped the reigns and Pegasus flew out of the stables as if he truly had wings.

" Well thanks," Heather said between gritted teeth as she tried to force the saddle upwards with a grunt.

She could hear the rumbling of the four-wheeler moving closer still. The noise was buzzing in her skull.

Her arms gave way and she lost her grip on the saddle. It slid down the horse's torso and landed with a heavy thud across her toes. She let out a groan of pain, dropping her head against Phillippe's body.

She hadn't notice that the rumbling had stopped until she heard the boy speak in his thick Texan accent, "Howdy, Heather."

" Hello, Brandon," she muttered, head still bent

Without another word, he picked the saddle up from her feet and began to fasten it to Phillippe.

Brandon Bedson was a seventeen year old of a muscular build and a deep tan from working on both the Calaway and his family's ranch. He was also captain of the football team at school. He stood at five foot eleven inches with deep blue eyes and sandy blonde hair. As in popular guy fashion, he quite good looking.

Brandon stood on the other side of Phillippe, bucking the strap under the horse's belly. He tested to make sure it was secure. When he was finished, he paused, staring into her .

Heather met his gaze only briefly, quickly averting her head towards the ground. She cleared her throat. "Uh, thanks," she mumbled.

" No problem," his voice had that twang to it. He came around Phillippe, stopping right beside her

She let him assist her in mounting the equestrian and set off.

"So how's it been going?" Brandon asked as they crossed the field on the back of the property.

"It's okay," she replied.

" You thinking of coming back to school soon?"

"Oh, I don't think so. Nor right now." Her heartbeat quickened and her stomach clenched into a knot. She did not want to think about what had happened at school.

"Well, the Sadie Hawkins dance is coming up next month in March. Seven girls have already asked me out, but I turned 'em all down. Hoping maybe, even if you don't come back to school, you'd go with me."

Please. Stop. Just stop. Her brain screamed at him. Yes, she could just envision it. Her, the freak, the date of Mr. Wonderful mingling with all the jocks, cheerleaders and _popular _kids. Listening to their superficial and transparent conversations over who has going to nail who, what girl is too fat for her dress, how hideous that one's makeup looks. All this, while trying to mimic their narcissistic behavior. She wagered she would likely end up drenched in pigs blood like Carrie by the night's conclusion.

Philippe trotted along at an even pace, though he seemed rather disturbed by the quad rolling along besides him. He jerked and whinnied.

The feeling is mutual, boy, Heather thought to herself. She wished she could gallop away on the stead, leaving Prince Charming alone with his unrequited affections.

"When is this taking place?" she finally questioned. No way in Hell was she even remotely considering going to some teenage pre-mating ritual with him. She merely didn't want to appear rude.

"March 16th. That's Saturday," he replied.

She frowned "Oh yeah. That's Wrestlemania weekend." She feigned disappointment to mask the relief from registering on her continence.

Brandon's face fell. "Guess you can't blame a guy for trying."

Heather smiled apprehensive. "Yeah." She hated that she felt guilty even thought she held zero desire to go with him.

Off in the distance, she heard her mother calling to her from the back patio. "Girls, dinner's almost ready. Come on in," she called, waving her hand over her head.

As they began heading back, Heather uttered a silent prayer of thanks.

When they reached the stables, Brandon hopped from the quad and right Phillippe's reigns to the post and lifted his arms to help Heather down.

Heather swung her right leg over as the other slipped from the stirrup. With a gasp she felt herself sliding towards the ground.

As if predicting her mishap, Brandon was there to catch her. She fell into his arms, bracing herself against his broad shoulders. She could feel his muscular arms clenched around her. She was at eye level with him and couldn't avoid locking eyes with him for a few agonizing moments.

Brandon eased her the rest of the way down. "You okay?"

Her face burning, she immediately averted her eyes. "Yeah. Thanks." After a moment of silence, she told him, " Better get back," as she hurried from the stables.

For a moment, Brandon watched her go. Damn, she has a great ass, he thought to himself. He taunt body pressed again him was about all he could take. It was so damn frustrating that the one girl he wanted more than anyone else wouldn't give him wouldn't give him the time of day while all these other bitches were falling all over themselves just to get a glance in their direction. There had to be some way to wear her down. For now, he will away the erection that had sprung up in his jeans and followed after her.

Heather made her way to the deck with Brandon in tow. Without being instructed, she entered the kitchen to pull out the salad and rolls for dinner.

" Hey, Brandon. How's it going?" Sara smiled at him.

"Can't complain, Mrs. Calaway, thanks. And yourself?" Brandon replied respectfully.

"Pretty good. Your parents still at that conference in Phoenix?"

"Yes, ma'am. Should be home on Thursday."

Sara nodded. "You wanna stay for dinner?" she asked.

"Well. Uh," he eyed the cuts of meat she was removing from the grill. "That ribeye, ma'am?" he asked sheepishly.

"Yep. It is."

"You're too kind, ma'am."

"You're welcome. And Brandon," she paused, narrowing her eyes at him, "You can call me Sara. I'm not _that _old."

"Right. Sorry, Miss Sara," he replied unsure.

"Good enough," she sighed shaking her head.

Midway through Reves had approached catching the tail end of the conversation.

When Heather returned the fist thing her eyes fell upon was her sister's face, twisted in disdain.

Brandon reach forward to take the bowls from Heather. Releasing them, she looked past him, to her sister in bewilderment.

Reves pointed at Brandon then gestures to the dinning table with a sneer on her face.

Heather's face fell. He was probably one of the last people she had wanted to see hate her family's dinner table, now he was going to sit down and break bread with them? What was this, the Divine Comedy? She questioned as she slumped down into her seat.

Just then, Mark and the twins had come up. They had been at the shop, working on the Mustang.

"Ugh, I'm starving!" Steven exclaimed, grabbing a roll with a still greasy hand.

"Ew! Go was your hands, you filthy pig!" Reves barked in disgust.

"Well, if I'm a pig, then you're the cow in the pen next to me," Steven shot back, a piece of masticated bread flying from his mouth.

Mark gently popped him in the back of the head. "Quit actin' like a damn animal," he commanded. "And don't talk to your sister like that in front of company.

"Hey," Steven said, rubbing the back of his head as his other half laughed at him.

Mark ignored them and turned to his oldest daughter. "You watch your mouth too, young lady.

"Everyone go and was your hands," Sara announced. "Come on, guys. This isn't kindergarten."

Heather pushed the food around on her plate, half-heartedly listening to the conversation Brandon was having with her parents and brothers. Her brothers were also on the football team at school, thought they were not particularly close to Brandon. She crinkled her nose at the bloody juice that seeped from the meat flank as she cut into it with her knife. She wasn't one for a large quantity of red meat. She was, by no means, a vegetarian, but was it a crime to not have it still mooing? She didn't speak on it however. She didn't want her parents to have the inclination that she was ungrateful.

Brandon was sitting beside her on the left. His proximity was too close for comfort, but she did her best to neglect his presence, a task which proved to be rather difficult as he continued turning towards her, eyes trained on her face.

Reves's fork hit the plate with a clang and she stood abruptly. "May I be excused?" she asked impatiently.

"Me too," Heather followed as she began to slowly rise.

"He'll no," Mark growled. "This is family. You don't always need to be running off."

Heather shot back into the chair with a frown. She bent her head, staring at the plate as she felt Brandon studying her again.

Reves made an obviously disgruntled display of falling back into her chair. Her ocean blue eyes reflected her fowl disposition.

Reves cut her eyes towards Brandon. She couldn't sit here and listen to this lying cad anymore.

"So, Heather, I hope maybe you will reconsider what we talked about earlier," Brandon said to the raven haired girl. He returned the glare at Reves, then directed himself back to Heather.

Heather gazed upwards, her eyes moving around the table. She was wringing her hands in her lap. What gall to bring this up in front of her parents? Her face became as deep crimson and she cursed herself for the lack of control over her visage.

"And just what type of conversation did you have?" Mark's voice was even, but his eyes narrowed.

Brandon glanced at him humbly. "Well sir, the Sadie Hawkins dance is coming up in March. I thought maybe she would like to go with me." He swallowed nervously.

"Isn't that the one where the girl asks out the guy?" Sara questioned before taking a sip of her drink.

"Yes," Reves interjected. "And wow. Stupid. Why ask her if the role is reversed? If she wanted to go with you, she would have said so," Reves stated bluntly.

"Reves Ann Calaway!" Sara scolded.

"Just saying…"

"That's Wrestlmania weekend," Heather finally spoke up, giving furtive glanced at Brandon and both her parents on turn. "I, I was looking forward to the show," she mumbled and he voice was plodding to her parents.

"I'm sorry, Brandon. She had been looking forward to this," Sara offered apologetically.

Mark looked relieved. The Bedson boy was alright. He was hardworking and respectful, but Mark didn't like the idea of anyone one trying to make a move on his little girl. He knew it was bound to happen as beautiful as she was, but he prayed it would be later instead of sooner. Still, he trusted that she was smart enough not to get tangle up in some big mess.

Brandon's eyes flashed. He didn't like being humiliated in front of her parents. He wanted to ask he to a movie, but he knew she would reject that too. To add insult to injury, her old man was a hardass. That kept her on a tight leash.

Brandon cleared his throat. "Well, it was awfully nice if ya to offer me dinner. Allow me to help clean up a bit," he said standing with his plate in hand and took Heather's plate as well.

"You don't have to do that, Brandon," Sara said.

"Y'all fed me. With all due respect, yeah, I do ma'am- I mean Miss Sara.

Sara nodded. "That's kind of you."

Reves rose from the table and started to walk off.

"Excuse me," Mark's bass voice rang out.

Reves stopped and turned, "Yes?" She forced the syrupy, sweet tone to her voice.

"Did you eat food at this table?"

The blonde teenager merely stared at him.

"I believe I asked you a question. Did you eat food at this table?" His voice was gruff.

She nodded in response.

"Then you better get the he'll over here and help clean up this mess," he demanded. His emerald eyes flashed at her.

She gave a seething glance at Brandon, then her sister, who was already obediently gathering dishes and silverware.

Heather rushed into the kitchen and Brandon followed suite. She placed the dishes in the sink and turned around to find her self cornered. A cold shiver ran down her spine.

She we rescued by the appearance of her sister. "You going to wash the dishes too? Maybe take a show? Stay the night?" Reves sneered.

Before he could respond, the rest of the clan was I tow. "Well, Mr. and Mrs. Calaway, I best be heading out. Thanks again for dinner. Best steak I had in a long time. My old man makes it too dry." he said with a grin.

"Yer welcome, son. We'll be seein' you," Mark replied, shaking his hand.

Heather was relieved when he finally left. Her lungs ached like she was holding in a breath fire the duration of his visit. She did not understand his so-called infatuation. They did not exactly run in the same social circle. She wondered if he realized she couldn't stand the thought of associating herself with him after what his sister and her lemmings had done. At least the would set out on the road once again after tomorrow, she thought as she was loading the dishes into the dishwasher.


	4. Chapter 4

Another run, another town. This time, the landed in Charlotte, NC. They arrived a day early so they wouldn't be so jet lagged. Mark drove the rental car towards their hotel with Heather in the front seat, reading while Reves stretched out in the backseat. Rev was staring out the window listening to her Saliva CD. They passed the arena where tomorrows Raw would be held. As they passed the venue, Reves bolted up reading the electronic sign. "No way!" she shouted as she reached forward to grab Heather's should, causing her to jump and drop her book in her lap.

"What?" Heather asked with alarm in her voice.

"Linkin Park! They're doing a show at the arena tonight."

Heather turned back and squinted to decipher the lettering on the sign that was growing smaller in the distance

Reves leaned between the seats and turned towards her father. "Can we go, Dad?" she asked, hopeful.

"Eh, girl you know I ain't into all that new stuff they got today. Ain't even music." Mark replied.

Reves made and exasperated grunt, throwing herself back into the seat, arms folded over her chest. She didn't know what pissed her off more: the fact that the answer was always no, or his round about answers sometimes.

Heather picked up her book, finding her place. It was a pity, she would have like the see the show. It had been a long time since they had been to any concerts and as he stated, Mark thought most of their favorite artist were just noise. Disappointed, she turned back to her book. Rosario had just revealed to Ambrosio in the grotto, that he is in fact a woman!

After a few minutes they arrived at the hotel to check in. They turned to head towards the elevators when the notice Matt, Jeff and Amy entering the lobby. Matt raised his hand over his head and waved at them.

Mark approached the three of them and the girls followed. "Hey, boys. Hey, Amy." Mark greeted them. "Didn't know you were getting in early too."

"We just did a house show in Greensboro last night, so we figured we'd head down here," Jeff replied. His accent seemed somehow broadened by being in his home state.

Mark nodded.

"What's up, girls?" Amy addressed the two teenagers.

"They're pissed at me right now," Mark volunteered.

"I'm not upset," Heather said meekly, looking up at him. Still, her emerald eyes were painted with chagrin.

Reves gave a sideways glance at the younger girl. Yeah right, she thought.

Mark looked down at Heather as well, giving her a half smile. He was aware she was disappointed. Yet at least she was agreeable. He loved how sweet and easy going his youngest was. She had the patience of a saint. His oldest daughter was very much the opposite. She was stubborn and cocky with a rebellious streak. Unlike Heather, who naturally fell into obedience, Reves would challenge every command then demand explanation. If she said the sky was blue, she would insist it was green until he provided a million reasons why she should believe it so.

"They want to go to this damn concert and I ain't up for that," Mark continued. "This Lonkin Prak?"

"Linkin Park," Heather corrected timidly.

"Whatever they are," Mark returned, shaking his head.

"Yeah, we did see that coming in! Love Linkin Park. They are one of my favorite bands," Amy replied elated.

"I know. Too bad we have to miss it," Reves stated, making not attempt to disguise her annoyance.

Mark was becoming agitated. "Girl, will you just drop it?"

Amy glanced between Matt and Jeff in a subliminal understanding, then to Mark. "You know, Mark we were actually thinking of going to the show. We could take the girls, if that's not a problem," she smiled at him.

Reves snapped her head towards her father to see his reaction. Heather couldn't help the grin that creeped across her face.

"No. It ain't yer responsibility to look after 'em."

Heather's face fell, while Reves's already skeptical face remained the same.

"It's not a problem for us, Mark," Jeff told him, his rainbow hair swayed as he spoke.

"You're sure?" Mark's expression changed to that of confliction. He crossed his arms over his broad chest, mulling it over.

"Positive. It's totally cool," Matt answered him.

A few moments later, Marks countenance softened, and his shoulders sagged. "Hell," he said dropping his arms. "Alright. Ya'll can go."

The girls squealed as they jumped up and down in elation. Reves's arms flew around his waist. He hugged he back while wishing he would get this type of affection without always having to give her something in return.

"Thank you, Daddy," Heather expressed gratitude as she kissed his cheek.

"Just don't go actin' crazy," he warned them sternly. He turned to the trio. "Thank you, really. Let me know if they get out of hand."

"Oh, I don't think that will happen," Amy grinned.

"Well, let's go get settled in for now," Mark told the girls.

They bid goodbye to their friends and headed to their room after collecting the key.

"Oh my God. I have like nothing to wear!" Reves announced, tossing her suitcase on the bed.

Mark groaned inwardly. Every time she uttered that statement, she usually asked to go shopping. He didn't understand what the hell for, either. Those girls had so many clothes they could cloth at small country. Hell, they could probably feed a small country if they sold even a fraction of their wardrobe.

"I'm just going to wear a pair of Tripp pants and my Hybrid Theory tee shirt. It must be fate that I brought it on this run," Heather said with a contented smile.

Reves glared at her, unzipping her suitcase. Her sister always did an immaculate job at ruining her plans. If baby Heather was content, she was always shut down.

Heather only stared at her questioningly. What had she done?

"Well, girls I'm going to get my workout in down at Gold's Gym. We can get something to eat after," Mark told them.

"Okay." Heather nodded in compliance.

Reves struggled to mask her annoyance. Still, she knew she was darn lucky to be going to the concert so it would have to be a tradeoff.

After Mark changed into his workout clothes, they head down to the rental car and drove the ten minutes to the nearest location of the gym that was popular amongst many of the wrestlers.

"Hey Mark, what's up? Hey girls." They were greeted by Glenn Jacobs, also know as Kane, a close personal friend and wrestling partner of Mark's.

"Hi," the sisters said in unison.

"Hey, man. How are you?" Mark questioned as he approached his friend, getting ready to start his workout.

Heather and Reves settled themselves on a nearby bench. They both carried their CD player for music. Reves pulled out her sketch pad and some pencils, while Heather immersed herself in the scandals of _The Monk_ once again.

Approximately fifteen minutes later, two others walked into the vicinity in the form of a blonde giant and a smaller dark-haired man.

Reves looked up from her drawing in exasperation. It was already turning into a disaster. Her piercing blues fell upon the two men once known as The Outsiders. She supposed it was still a fitting title for them now. After watching them for a few moments, Scott Hall turned towards her with a grin, his chocolate eyes staring back at her. A coy smirk stretched across her lips, but was almost immediately replaced by a scowl. He's kinda cute, she said to herself. For an old guy…

Scott chuckled. She was big and bad, alright. But her dark eyeliner and combat boots were a valiant addition to the aesthetic. He watched her tuck a strand of ashy hair behind her ear. And return to her artwork.

Kevin witnessed the exchange, but once she turned back, his eyes shifted to the right and fell upon the tiny creature sitting beside her sister. She sat with her legs crossed under her. She was hunched over a book that's cover her couldn't see. He couldn't see her face because she was wearing a hooded jacket that shielded her face. Still, he knew who she was courtesy the shiny raven locks marked with violet, that cascaded from the hood creating a curtain over the front of her small frame. He noticed her shoulders quivering, a sign she was either crying or laughing, but he couldn't hear over the din of equipment, chatter and music coming over the speakers.

She canted her head towards her sister, but her mossy eyes were caught by his. Her delicate lips were tugged at the corners in a bemused grin. Her visage was instantly flushed in a deep crimson and her smile faded. Kevin caught one last glimpse of her eyes from behind her dark rimmed glasses before she dropped her head, pulling her hood further over her comely face.

Kevin shrugged and turned back to spot his friend. He didn't know why the girl seemed so skittish, like some sort of scared rabbit. Like it matters anyway he told himself. Still, those sparkling eyes burned into his mind for a few more moments.

Heather's heart was beating a little rapidly. She was not anticipating to look up and see Kevin Nash. She wasn't positive, but it would seem he had already been observing her for a few moments. Why would that be? She shuddered. Her dad's friends were some of the oddest people.

Every once in a while, Reves would steal glances in the direction of the two mean. She had had to sit and gawk at not only other wrestlers, but every other meathead Joe Some in gym after gym, but she never considered how hot it could be until she was watching Scott's muscles flex as he worked the equipment. She felt a tingling between her legs and sighed inwardly. She hadn't had any since she was dumped by her boyfriend, Eric when she told him she was going on the road with her dad. Thinking of her break up quickly shifted her thoughts away from Scott. She frowned, closing her sketchbook.

When Mark finished his workout, he hit the shower and changed clothes. After that, they grabbed a bite to eat. Following their meal, they returned to their room where Mark laid down for a nap as he had said. He felt like an old geezer, but he had been doing this for a long time. He started training before the kids where born. Not to mention, the traveling and mental stress sucked the energy right out of him.

In another room connecting off of Mark's, Heather lay on her stomach, her nose still buried in her book. Meanwhile, Reves was restlessly pacing back and forth. They still had a few hours before the could even begin getting ready for the concert. Reves, then suddenly, plopped back onto the bed beside her sister, causing a slight bouncing motion. Heather acknowledged her with a furtive glance and redirected her attention to the scandalous tome.

After a minute or so, Reves spoke, "What do you think of Hall and Nash?" she quizzed the younger girl, keeping her eyes trained on the ceiling.

"What do you mean? I don't think of them," Heather stated flatly, "Other than they being overtly abhorrent, as is everyone else in this industry." Her eyes never left the pages of the book, although she had stopped reading to confer with her sister.

Reves shook her head, "Never mind." She gave a fail-safe smirk.

Heather thought it was odd of her sister to make such an inquiry, but she wasn't the type to prod for answers, so she moved on from it. She deduced she was probably sizing them up to measure if they were true to their word about not snitching. It was not as if they were delinquents. Yet, because of some of the wrestlers' attitudes towards them, Reves like to know what parties were copasetic and who they needed to steer clear of (not that Rev ever garnered much success in that category).

Finally, it was time to prepare for the concert. They teenagers were listening to the _Hybrid Theory_ album as they were doing their make-up and getting dressed. While they were finishing up, Amy, Matt, and Jeff knocked on the door to pick them up.

As they came out to from the adjacent room, Mark looked the girls over. Heather was fine, of course. "You really think I'm going to let you walk out this door like that?" Mark questioned Reves with his arms folded over his chest.

"What?" she groaned in agitation.

"Don't act naive. I've seen longer skirts that that down in the red-light district." He was exaggerating of course, but that _scrap_ of fabric – sure as hell couldn't call it a skirt – not on his daughter!

Reves's eyes flashed and Heather, mentally pleaded with her to not let slip the words that came next, "And what would you know about the length of the skirts in the red-light district?"

Mark glared at her with fire in his eyes. He clenched his fist, talking himself down. The tension in the room was as thick as mud. Amy and the boys shuffled their feet in awkward discomfort. "Go put something else on, or you are not going," Mark demanded in an even but grousing tone.

"Aye, aye Captain," Reves saluted in her most benevolent disposition before walking towards the other room.

Mark released and aggravated growl, turning to the three that were waiting, "Sorry guys." Thanks again for doing this."

"Nothing to thank us for. Already told you that," Matt stated.

A minute later, Reves reappeared with a pair of leggings on beneath her skirt. "Is this up to your standards?" Reves scoffed.

"Girl, don't push me," Mark warned. "Now listen to Amy and the boys and don't do nothin' stupid," he instructed as they walked out.

_Anything_. Don't do anything stupid. Heather had the urge to correct him, but knew better as he was already heated.

_Don't do nothin' stupid. _I can think of a million ways to accomplish that, Reves thought to herself.

When they got into the elevator, Reves removed her boots and peeled off the leggings, stuffing them in her bag.

Heather gasped. "Rev, Daddy told you to wear those for reason," the younger sibling reprimanded her.

"Oh please," Reves glared at her.

Heather looked to Amy, Matt and Jeff for backup. Amy shrugged, "I don't see what's wrong with it," she admitted.

Matt and Jeff were looking to the walls awkwardly. "Ya could have at least went to the ladies' room." Jeff informed Reves.

Heather's shoulders sagged. "Just remember to put them back on before we come home."

"Yes, mommy," Reves spoke sardonically.

They made their way to the rental car. As they did, they passed Scott Hall and Kevin Nash, this time with Hulk Hogan. Heather nodded politely and hurried on.

Reves purposely made eye contact with Scott, though she quickly regretted it when he grinned at her causing her to blush in vain. She averted her eyes and quickened her pace to catch up with the others.

Scott watched her for a moment. Could her skirt possibly be any shorter? Did Mark really let her go out like that? Fat chance. He felt his member twitch involuntarily which freaked him out. He shook off the thought when he heard Kev calling him, "Scotty, hurry the hell up, man."

* * *

"Third row?" Heather exclaimed when Matt handed them their tickets as they waited in line.

"Yeah, not bad for last minute," Amy stated with a smirk, pushing a lock of fiery red hair way from her face.

"Coolio," Reves grinned.

"Thank you for letting us come with you," Heather told them sincerely.

"Yeah, with all do respect to Mark, you two are young. You should be out having fun, not locked up in some hotel or Mark's dressing room," Jeff said in his Carolina accent.

"Glad somebody gets it," Reves sighed as she briefly laid her head on his shoulder, and smiled.

They moved forward in line and it was finally time to present their tickets in exchange for access to the show.

The opening act had been pleasing enough, but it was finally time for the band everyone had been waiting for. Following a few minutes devoted to set up between bands, the main act took the stage. The music flowed out of the speakers and everyone was growing hyped by the intro. The two sisters were so ecstatic to be allowed to be out and revel in something they loved probably for than anything: the music, the instrumentals, the words and the emotions. Linkin Park were a particularly unique band with their mix of classic rock guitars and drums married with turntables and electronic beats. It was complimented the combination of Mike's perpetual flow and Chester's growly screams.

The band's opener was _With You _and the audience was already pumped, jumping up and down to the music with their hands in the air.

Midway through the show, Heather gave a shout when she recognized her favorite Linkin Park song, _Points of Authority_. She sang along to all the lyrics breathlessly, _"Forfeit the game before somebody takes you outta the frame and puts your name to shame…" _ Then the song flowed into perhaps their biggest hit, _In the End_.

The five young people lost themselves in the music, the lyrics, the vibe. For a short while, they didn't have to be characters or adhere to someone else's rules. The adrenaline rushed through the sisters' veins and by the end of the show they were too hyped to think about sleep when Amy and the brothers dropped them off at their hotel room at a quarter to midnight after stopping for some fast food.

The girls thanked them again as Reves inserted to keycard into the door. They bid the three goodnight and entered the room. The realization dawned on Reves as she entered the door. "Shit!" she expelled through clenched teeth. She had forgotten to put her leggings back on, so she made a b-line for the adjacent room.

"Hey Rev," a few moments later Heather entered and presented to her a note in their father's sloppy scribble stating he had gone out with some of the boys and would be back later.

"How shocking!" Reves sardonically feigned surprise.

"Dad works really hard. He deserves to relax too." Heather gently reprimanded her older sister, although in truth, she too felt he could spend less time in bars and with his buddies.

The girls washed the make-up off their faces and changed into their pajamas. They turned on the lights and crawled into bed with _Cruel Intentions_ playing on HBO.

"Do you think with should be like a female Linkin Park?" Reves questioned her younger sister as she twisted a lock of blonde hair between her thumb and forefinger.

"The probability of success on such and endeavor is tremendously low," Heather stated matter of fact. "In other words: no, I don't think we could replicate Chester and Mike's dynamic, despite the fact that we are, in fact, sisters.

"Thanks for crushing my dreams," Reves replied with sarcasm, yet grinned.

They laid there watching the movie until sleep finally overtook them.

* * *

The round of shot glasses hit the table with a disjointed clinking. That was the third round and they were just getting started. It was good to have these motherfuckers partying together again.

"You get let off the chain or what?" Scott asked Mark.

"Fuck off, Hall," Mark grinned as he knocked back a swig of his Jack and Coke.

"He just gets a little slack," Glen quipped.

"Don't you start your shit too, Jacobs," Mark shot back. Had he not already been buzzed, he probably would have socked them all in the mouth.

On the stage immediately to their left, a leggy blonde slide down the pole that was fixed in the center. She thrusted her tight ass towards them as she bent over. Looking back at them, she smiled seductively over her shoulder. Reaching behind her, she unclasped her sequin bra. She turned, facing them. Holding it in place over her chest, she removed her arms from each strap before tossing it aside to reveal her ample breasts.

Down on her knees, she crawled towards Mark. "You're The Undertaker," she stated, jiggling her DDs in front of his face.

She smiled keenly, running her hands over her taunt abs and flipped her hair. "So, would you be interested in a privet dance, Deadman?" she asked in husky voice.

"No thanks," he replied flatly. A war was waging inside him. It would be so easy to fall into temptation. Too easy in fact. But he and Sara were finally getting back to a good place. He couldn't fuck that up over one night of getting his dick wet.

Her face fell and distorted into anger. "Deadman? That stands for dead from the waist down, right?" She snarled, drawing jeers and laughter from his friends.

"Hey bitch-" Mark started.

"I got you, sweet thing," Scott intervened, slipping a fifty-dollar bill into the string of her thong.

"The Bad Guy," she grinned, as she turned towards him.

"You got it, Chica," Scott smirked, oozing machismo.

"What do you say? You up for some privet fun?"

"You got a friend for my friend?" he canted his head towards Kevin who was sitting to his right, puffing on a fat stogie.

"Certainly. My best friend loves her some Big Sexy." Her tits bounced as she leaned forward, quickly. They both eyed her salaciously. "Hey, Charity!" she called to her friend from across the club.

Charity's chestnut hair sprang as she pulled her attention away from the plump, suited business man upon whose lap she sat. She watched the smile that played on Candy's sultry lips as a perfectly manicured nail beckoned her over. She saw the group of wrestlers as she approached, leaving her current client confused and disgruntled. She was a little nervous, but maintained her charm as she her voluptuous hips swayed back and forth.

"Well hello boys," Charity said. Her voice flowed smooth as silk, "Having a good time?"

"It's decent," Nash shrugged. "But maybe we could turn things up a notched?" The sensuality in his voice made her shudder, drawing moisture between her legs.

This wasn't right she was the one who was supposed to leave her clients and hot and bothered, gushing with lust and desire for her. This was Kevin fucking Nash though. They didn't call him Big Sexy for nothing!

She looked around at the members of their party. "The Bad Guy" Scott Hall, Taker, Kane and others too.

"What did you have in mind, dear?" Candy asked in an alluringly husky voice.

"The Best Western at 9th and Main, 126 and 127," Scott replied, signature tooth-pick resting in the corner of his mouth.

The young women exchanged wry glances, their lips curved in sultry grins. "Give is about thirty minutes." Candy linked arms with Charity as both women eyed them wantonly before they slinked backstage.

"Can't believe you turned that fine ass down, Mark," Kevin said to him.

"Hell, I remember a time when you would have taken both those broads as once," Scott added.

Mark empty his glass, placing it in the table with an unintentional bang. "Look, I made a mistake once or twice, but that was a long time ago. I don't do that shit anymore," Mark growled defensively.

"Since when? Since your kids started comin' round?" Scott mused.

Mark's jaw clenched and his gazed locked onto Hall in a furious glare. His knuckles felt tight as his hand balled into a fist. His blood was boiling, but rather than get into a brawl, get got up and started to walk out. "I'm outta here! I got better things to do than hang around with you dumb fucks," his thick accent boomed.

"What crawled up his ass?" Nash questioned.

Glen slapped his forehead. "You two _are _dumb fucks. He almost got divorced before the whole stalker angle, they did. Spending the time with Sara helped save his marriage," he told them. "He was also having issues with his kids at that time. You set him off pretty bad."

Hall and Nash felt rather shitty after that, but there was no way they could have known. They didn't talk with Mark too often during their years with WCW or on their hiatus either. Still, they figured Mark would get over it rather quickly, so they shrugged it off after a few moments.

"Well, it looks like we have some business to attend to brother," Kev said to Scott as he stood up with a smug expression painting his face.

"Hey, you wanna switch broads?" Scott asked him.

Nash furrowed his brows at the absurdity of the request. "Fuck no!"

They exited the club, hardly paying any mind to Glen as they left him there, stuck with everyone's tabs.

"Gee, thanks assholes," Glen groused under his breath as he pulled two hundred-dollar bills from his wallet and threw them on the bar before leaving himself.

* * *

So had this chapter in mind for a little while, even before Chester Bennington's untimely death. R.I.P Chester.


	5. Chapter 5

The next day was passing in a rather mundane manner as the girls were coming down from the excitement of last night's show. They sat in the cafeteria at catering with their father, sipping tea from styrofoam cups. Reves's face distorted at the taste of the brackish liquid. "For a billion-dollar company, you would think they could provide something better than Lipton."

"You know, unfortunately, they do have to allocate a budget for such expenses," Heather turned to her and stated.

"They order like ten gallons of soup. Soup! Surly, they can _squeeze_ in the for some Republic of Tea, Celestial Seasons, something!" Rev argued.

"Girl, shut yer mouth. It's all the same," Mark chided her.

Heather had a myriad of responses and facts to counter that statement, but she felt it was best to let it be.

She looked to the door when the three men that comprised the New World Order faction entered. Although the whole nWo angle was a work, like every other story presented on the program, Heather's innate observation revealed to her the tension that pervaded the room.

Some paid little mind to the scenario. To them work was work. Others still stared at them warily, wishing to send them to the gallows. Heather knew all too well that even though her father considered them to be friends, he held the industry in the highest esteem. There was no possibility he would allow them to return to this company and proceed to usurp authority.

She supposed the idiom went as _'life imitates art'. _Still, she wasn't positive how much truth there was to the rumors that they had decimated WCW from the inside out. However, she was certain that AOL/Time Warner was in dire financial straits when Vince McMahon finally bought them out.

Lastly, there was that absurd urban legend that Mr. McMahon had sent Hall and Nash to WCW to destroy it. Judging by the glares and tension, that didn't seem likely at all. These prospects all made her a little apprehensive.

Heather blinked and shook her head. What did it matter? She was aware she was often known to over analyze situations at times. Perhaps reading too many Shakespeare plays had left her in that mind set. After all, was not all the world a stage?

As Heather was entangled in discerning myths from concrete facts, Reves had her eyes fixed on Scott Hall as he dispensed coffee from a giant urn. She couldn't help but stare at him in those snug black jeans, his t-shirt stretched tightly across his chest. His gleaming onyx hair was pulled back into its trademark braid. She gazed at the dark stubble on her chin, wondering briefly what it would feel like scrapping against her sensitive skin, before her surroundings and her wits caught up with her.

She pulled her attention away and turned towards her sister. "Are you almost done?" she questioned impatiently as Heather nibbled a turkey sandwich.

"Yeah, girl hurry up," Mark instructed after looking at the clock.

"Yes sir," Heather replied before taking a bigger bite.

Kevin and Terry joined Scott as he was adding sugar to his coffee.

"Don't you think you're sweet enough?" Kevin asked with a shit eating grin.

"Shut up, you dick," Scott retorted, but returned the grin.

"Someone seems to think so," Kev shifted his eyes towards the table where Mark and the girls sat. "Looks like you got yourself a little mark."

Scott turned his head nonchalantly just as she was glancing over again. Their eyes met and she averted her gaze quickly. Abruptly, she stood, her folding chair caused a loud screech as she did so. She cursed the noise for drawing more attention to her than there should have been. She collected her trash and scurried to the garbage bin before anyone could see her crimson face.

Heather got up, following suite and Mark was in tow.

Scott chuckled. It would seem someone had a little crush. He was used to young girls being infatuated with him. Still he found it hilarious that her badass attitude was probably a front.

The sisters walked a few feet in front of Mark. Heather linked arms with her sister. She looked distressed. "Are you alright?" she asked with concern.

Reves glanced over her shoulder at her father. "I'm fine," she looked at her younger sibling, hoping she sounded convincing.

Heather wasn't so sure, but she didn't know how to approach the issue. Nothing had seemed to change, yet her sister seemed…distracted. She knew Reves would not speak to her about it in their father's presence, so she dropped her inquisition.

They made their way back to Mark's locker room. "Kay, girls. I got an interview I gotta do. It shouldn't take too long. Just hang out here for now," Mark instructed.

Reves rolled her eyes and fell back on the leather couch, folding her arms over her chest.

Mark took notice of this and scowled. "Do you have a problem with my work schedule, little girl?" his voice bellowed. Ninety percent of it was a scare tactic to keep them in line, but he was defiantly not the type to be disrespected.

Reves straightened her face, dropping her hands into her lap. She looked down at her boots. "No sir, I don't," she answered, trying her best to sound compliant.

"That's exactly what I thought. Now, don't go getting into trouble," he warned as he exited the room. He closed to door behind him and he was gone.

"That sounds like a challenge," Reves grinned.

"No, Rev. We already got into hot water last week for messing around in the ring. Remember?" Heather chided her sister.

Reves's eyes flashed with mischief as Heather made mention of the squared circle. She leaned on the armrest of the couch in front of her sister, and peered into her eyes. "C'mon. Are you just gonna sit here and read like a dork?" she asked as she snatched the copy of _Animal Farm_ from her sister's delicate hands.

"That was my intention," the ebony hared girl replied, attempting to retrieve her book.

"Ugh, I'm so bored! You expect me to just sit here and do nothing?"

"I wasn't aware that your entertainment was dependent upon me," Heather stated in a rare, caustic tone.

"I'll just keep this with me," Reves held up her sister's book. "Or perhaps, it will make it's way to the men's urinals," she threatened, her lips pursed wickedly.

Heather's eyes widened at the thought of the abuse and destruction of the novel. "That is my course book, in case any form of consciousness eludes you," she informed her sister, the edge cut through her voice.

Reves shrugged and headed for the door. Heather stood up and followed after her. "Come on, Rev. You know we are supposed to stay put."

"Dad never does interviews," Reves ejected, becoming serious all of a sudden.

"What do you mean?" Heather questioned, a little unnerved by her sister's expression. "Is that what made you upset earlier?"

They had stopped now and stood in the corridor.

"No," Reves admitted, "But don't you think it's funny?"

Heather paused momentarily to ponder the thought. Not where she was concerned, it wasn't. Their father was a busy man with a hectic schedule. She still didn't understand her sister's notion. Not until it dawned on her, making her gasp and blush. "You still don't trust him, do you?"

Reves only shook her head in response. She was harboring a grudge. This man was their father. He was supposed to be the foundation of their family and had lied and deceived them all. Her mother was supposed to be the glue, though she was guilty as well. It was just more difficult to crucify her given her sacrifices and her suffering to keep the family from falling apart.

"Rev, I don't think Dad- it's not our concern, I suppose…" Heather trailed off, looking away.

* * *

She remembered that day, a little over a year ago. They had come home from school. They usually found their mother in the kitchen starting dinner at that time. That day however, she was absent when they entered the kitchen. They made their way upstairs, calling for her.

"I'll be out in a minute, girls," she called back to them from her bedroom. After a couple of minutes, she emerged from her bedroom. Her eyes were red and puffy. She had been crying and the girls were surprised. Their mother was an affectionate and loving woman, but they had rarely witnessed her cry.

"Mom, what's wrong?" Reves questioned.

"Is it Daddy?" Heather's hands flew over her mouth in alarm.

Fresh tears were threatening to spill from their mother's eyes again. "No, he's fine." There was a bitter edge to her voice. "It's nothing you girls need to concern yourselves with." She wiped way the tears and tried to smile.

Her answer only piqued the girl's disquietude. For they perceived the shock and betrayal in their mother's eyes. They two sisters exchanged glances. They were well aware that something awful had taken place. Their mother didn't just cry for no apparent reason.

"I'm fine girls, really. Come on," she said, putting an arm around each girl. It was time for her to dry it up. There were the kids to think of. "Can you help me peel potatoes for dinner? Your brothers will be starved when they come home from football practice."

Later that night, Heather had approached her parents' room again to inquire if her favorite shirt had come out of the wash. She heard her mother speaking to someone. "Yes Mom," her voice cracked as if she was crying again. "He forgot his cell phone when he left out this morning. It had a voicemail from a woman named Vivian telling him how much she missed him, and couldn't wait to see him again."

Heather's stomach leaped up into her throat. Her hand clasped over her mouth to muffle the gasp that escaped her. She immediately turned on her heels, running in the other direction before she was discovered. Getting away in such a rush, she knocked into a credenza, nearly toppling a group of framed photos.

She hurried to her sister's room, and closed to door behind her. Breathless and in tears, she reveled to her sister the shocking secret that had their mother so devastated.

Reves immediately became enraged. She was furious with her father. Even though she knew it was between her parents, she was sure to let him know about it the next time he returned home. Despite being grounded for their alleged _meddling, _Reves was glad she had said her peace. It was a fault of hers, she couldn't sit back in silence if she knew something was wrong.

* * *

The sisters where drawn back to the present when their eyes met. "Come on, humor me. Give me a good fight," Reves smiled, trying to chase away the brooding feelings rising up in her.

Smiling sweetly, Heather relented as her sister took her hand. "Okay, okay. Just one."

Down in the ring, the sisters were having themselves a mock match up. Truthfully, they didn't have any experience. They simply mimicked what they saw in the ring. They knew there was a method to the madness. They had seen countless "DON'T TRY THIS AT HOME" ads. However, they could only fill their time so many ways while on the road.

"You are going to break your necks like that," a deep baritone voice scold them from out of nowhere.

Both girls jumped, and stood up on their feet. Heather's heart, which was already pounding from the surprise, accelerated more. They would be in for it now. They sister looked over to see Hall and Nash entering the ring. Heather took notice of the way Nash stepped over the top rope. Her father did not even do that. Heather lowered her gaze when he looked at her. She hugged her body self-consciously. She didn't feel overtly uncomfortable, but the thought of someone watching her perform shenanigans in such a mediocre fashion left her absolutely mortified.

Reves on the other hand, had no qualms in displaying her displeasure at the interruption of their theatrics. With her hands on her hips, her face was fixed in a glare and she tapped her foot on the canvas.

"Oh, sorry. Don't realize the ring was already rented out," Hall said sarcastically.

"Looks like you were having yourselves a five-star match," Nash added.

The sisters glanced at each other and Heather went red. Why did it see as if these two were always around all of a sudden?

"Look chicas, you got no business down in this ring if you don't know what you're doing. Big Kev is right. You could get seriously hurt," Scott admonished them.

Heather nodded in compliance while Reves rolled her eyes.

"Does Mark know you're down here?" Kevin asked

"No, Mr. Nash," Heather replied.

Kevin raised an eyebrow at her. "Really? What do I look like, some fucking fat, old history teacher?" he questioned with his massive arms folded across his broad chest.

Scott laughed. "May I use the bathroom, Mr. Nash?" he begged jumping up and down with his hand raised.

Heather's face registered bewilderment and shock. Even though her father was a monster of a man, she was not acquainted with being in such proximity to someone else of such enormous stature. It all made her feel anxious and intimidated.

"N-no, sir," she mumbled. She couldn't comprehend what the issue was. She was merely being respectful like her daddy taught her. She made it a point to interact that was with everyone so they wouldn't have a cause to give her father a bad report.

She momentarily made eye contact. Here father was always chiding her about looking people in the eye when she was speaking with them. It was a challenge. She was shy by nature and the torment she endured while at school made it all the more difficult.

Kevin looked in the petite girl's eyes and instantly felt like a dick. He hadn't meant to come off so brash. She seemed like a sweet girl and it was probably something rooted in her due to her southern upbringing.

"Hey, don't be so rude to my sister," Reves clucked. "She was only being polite and respectful, which I can say, is more than you would get from me. You gotta earn that shit."

Scott's eyes widened in a mocking fashion as he wiggled his fingers playfully in one of his signature taunts.

Kevin on the other hand, glowered down at her. "And what the fuck did we ever do to you?"

"Well," her brazen attitude was faltering. "Just don't scare my sister, okay? Just because you guys are all big and buff doesn't mean you have to act like dickheads."

"Reves!" Heather gasped. "You should apologize, now. Please" It was taking a considerable amount of courage for Heather to chide her sister. She was nearly squirming as she spoke.

"For what?" Reves shrugged her shoulders.

Kevin inhaled sharply and shifted his stance. Her was half a second was from smacking the little brat.

Scott looked at his best friend and stifled a laugh. Was he really letting the kid get to him? He cracked a grin and his tongue manipulated the toothpick between his lips.

Stealing a glance at him, Reves was all too curios as to what else that tongue could do. Her face became flush, though she was battling to keep her cool.

"You alright there?" Scott asked as he removed the toothpick from his mouth.

Reves was pulled from her little fantasy by the sound of his voice. "What?" she snapped.

Scott stared at his buddy and this time their eyes met. They were well aware of how challenging traveling and living on the road was. It was miserable for a grown man. They couldn't imagine what it was like for a couple of teen girls. Which begged the question as to what they were doing there.

Kevin's seething expression began to slip away. "Look, just don't be fucking around down here alright?" He turned towards Heather. "And I'm sorry for coming off as a prick. That's kind of just my personality." He bowed to emphasize his apology. "But Kevin is fine, if you don't mind."

She blushed and smiled shyly at the comical gesture. "It's quite alright," she forced herself to speak.

"Don't you think you oughta get back before Mark's interview is up?" Scott suggested.

"Shit!" Reves exclaimed and Heather gasped. They were sure it had been past and hour. Without any further acknowledgement to the two outsiders, Heather scrambled out of the ring. Reves gave one last glance at Scott and followed suit.

They two men stood in the ring and watched them disappear backstage.

"Annoying, fucking marks," Kevin grumbled.

"What are you moaning about over there, Big Grumpy? Girl didn't put you over?" Scott chided the larger man.

Kev ignored his inquiry and threw his arm around the smaller man's should. "You're luck we're brothers Scotty."


	6. Chapter 6

"It was absolutely mortifying, Amy," Heather informed her friend as she regaled the sisters' latest encounter with Hall and Nash.

"It was annoying," Reves groused, leaning against the wall.

Amy chuckled. "I'm sure it wasn't that bad."

"Sure, if you don't mind a hole in the head," Reves said, bleeding sarcasm.

Amy rolled her eyes playfully. "Did Mark find out?"

"Not thus far," Heather shrugged. "I told Rev it wasn't a good idea, at any rate."

"Oh, cut your _Little Miss Perfect_ shit. You were out there, same as me." Rev snipped.

"If you recall, I was trying to read," Heather retorted.

Amy was amused by the sisters' squabbling. "Alright. Let's just agree that it was both mortifying and annoying." She shook her head with a smile. "Do you think your dad would let you hang out with us tonight? The boys and I are going to meet up with Jason and Adam. Trish might come out too."

"We could ask, I guess," Reves shrugged, "but it's probably best not to mention the others."

Heather looked a little nervous as Amy glanced at her. "Well, it's cool. Just let us know, okay? I gotta go meet up with the boys," she nodded as she started to walk off. She turned towards them again, but didn't stop. "Hey, where is that demo?"

"Soon," the girls promised in unison as Amy disappeared.

Reves glanced as Heather with an amused smile stretched across their lips. "We are not sisters," she quipped as she started down the hall.

"You know Dad won't let us go if her finds out Jason and Adam are going to be there. He barely trusts Matt and Jeff around us." Heather reminded her sister as she followed after.

"Did you not hear what I just said? He doesn't have to know they will be there."

"Rev, that's lying," Heather chided gently.

"No, it isn't," Rev countered, "It's just not revealing all the details." She grinned.

They found their father in his dressing room. He was dressed in his singlet, leather pants and boots, preparing for his upcoming match. "Where were you?" He questioned as they entered. They were thankful he hadn't learned about their incident two days ago.

"Just talking to Amy," Heather replied innocently.

"You know I don't like you just roaming around bothering people."

"We don't bother Amy, Dad," Reves interjected with an air of agitation. "In fact, she wanted to know if we could hang out with them after Smackdown."

"And who is _them_?" Mark asked in his gruff voice.

Reves rolled her eyes defiantly. "It's just Amy, Matt and Jeff,"

Rev's poker face was pretty expert; however, it was usually Heather who gave them way. She shifted on her heels and didn't meet Mark's gaze.

Mark took his eyes from Heather back to Reves. "And who else?" He gave her another chance to shoot straight with him.

Reves averted her eyes to her sister with a scowl. She stood there with her head bowed and her hands folded in front of her. Reves wasn't fearful of meeting her father's gaze, however. "Jason and Adam. Maybe Trish, too."

"No way. Not happening," Mark growled

Reves started, "But, what's the-"

"Listen girl, I said no. I don't owe you a damn explanation to my decision!" Mark roared.

Reves pursed her lips. The anger was rising up in her, and she was doing her best to keep it contained. That is exactly what he had said when she approached him about his infidelities. Deep down she knew that, but she couldn't help but fight against injustice. If she couldn't trust those who were supposed to be closest to her, who in this God forsaken world could she trust?

"Listen, I have to head out for my match. I don't want to hear any more about this when I come back," he told them, looking at each girl in turn.

Heather nodded bashfully and demurred, "Yes, Sir."

"Hmph," Reves plopped down on the leather couch, her face distorted in an unabashed scowl.

"Was I misunderstood somehow?" Mark questioned.

"No, Sir! I heard you loud and clear," Reves grinned so wide it hurt.

"Don't give me that sarcastic shit!" Mark warned her. "I'm not in the mood, girl." He walked out, leaving the sister's alone.

"Yes, Sir!" Reves mocked Heather in a high-pitched squeak. "You are such an ass kisser. You're lame as fuck.

Heather's bright green eyes fell upon her sister. "Yes, it is quite the tragedy that I chose to obey the boundaries set in place by our parents, particularly our father – as stern a man that he is," she shot back, picking up her book.

Reves grabbed her notebook, and started scribbling down angry lyrics. She was already thinking of the melody and an awesome riff that might work. Unfortunately, they didn't bring any instruments tonight.

After some time, Heather's eyes shifted from the pages of her book. Her sister looked restless. "What's wrong?" she asked with gentle concern.

"I'm tired of being ignored like everything we say doesn't matter," Reves divulged as she put her notebook down on the coffee table.

"Rev, we matter a lot. Why do you think Mom and Dad make the sacrifices they do?" Heather attempted to reassure her.

"Easy for you to say. You weren't deceived your entire life," Reves seethed. "They just didn't listen to you, did they? Better to just be written off than lied to."

Blue orbs met green as Heather winced. Why would she bring that up? "Rev, please…" her timid voice trailed off.

"I'm not trying to upset you. I'm just saying don't act like they are parents of the year when they've failed in more way than one."

Heather lowered her head, and stared at the book in her lap. She never felt like her parents had failed. She loved them and felt they did the best they could. When she was young, she thought that was how all families were. The father went out on the road and came back a couple times a month. She quickly learned they this was not the case, that her family was not like others. _Had they been there…_

She stopped herself. It was not their fault.

Just then, Mark came through the door, startling Heather. He was sweaty and exhausted following his match. He looked at his daughters. Reves was still raging. _Fine let her sulk_, he thought. Make sat down to unlace his boots. His bones ached as he did so and he was irritated as usual. He needed a good stiff drink, but he decided to wait until they got back to the hotel to let them know that Angle had invited him out for a couple of drinks after their match.

"How was your match, Dad?" Heather inquired.

"It went over alright," he replied, removing his boots. "I'm gonna take a shower and we can head to the hotel." He grabbed a towel and a change of clothes and headed towards the showers.

"Ok," the girls answered.

When they were settled at the hotel, Mark informed the girls that he would be meeting up with his friends.

Reves's eyes flared and her face distorted into a grimace. "Why don't you just leave us at home? It's obvious we are nothing but a burden."

Mark's head snapped in her direction and he stared daggers through her for a moment. "Girl, I am getting so sick of your shit. News flash: I'm the parent. You're the kid! I'm going to have a drink with my buddies. Now I suggest you get to bed, we have to be up early to head out and I don't want to hear your bitching in the morning," he barked at her.

Heather lowered her head. She wished her sister would not provoke their father in the manner that she did. She always became skittish when her father raised his voice. He was never abusive. He was simply stern and imposing and that was enough to have her quaking in her Chuck Taylors. She loved her father very much but when she was younger a simple glance could reduce her to tears. Mark would proceed to warn her to dry it up before he have her something to cry about, inducing even more squalling and rendering Mark guilt ridden.

Reves on the other hand, had always been the most rebellious of his four kids. Mark wasn't sure if it was because she was the oldest or if she had always felt that something wasn't right. But she was fearless and would tell anyone exactly what she was thinking at any given moment.

That wasn't to say Mark wanted his children to fear him, but damn it, he demanded respect, especially from his kids. Fuck, his body was already beaten and broken down to give them this life. What more did they want? Was it really such a crime for him to unwind with his buddies for a couple of hours?

Reves swallowed her rage. "Ok, sir," she mumbled heading into the adjacent room.

Mark turned towards Heather. "Get some sleep, girl," he said calmly, though his voice was still gruff.

She nodded. "Good night, Dad,"

"Night, girl," he replied as he headed for the door.

After he shut the door behind him, Heather sighed and turned towards the other room.

"Is he gone?" Reves asked bitterly.

Heather only nodded and sat down on the bed to untie her black Converses.

Reves grabbed her journal where she kept phone numbers and other important information. She hopped back to the other side of the bed, and reached for the telephone that sat on the side table. Looking from the page to the keypad, she began to dial out.

"What are you doing?" Heather inquired as she she pulled off her shoe and set it on the floor. She could hear the phone ringing in the other end. "Rev?"

"Shhhh!" Reves hushed her sister harshly. "Hey, Amy!" she greeted brightly.

"Hey, what's up?" Heather heard Amy say through the receiver and she leaned in closer to her sister to hear more.

"Not much. But yeah, Dad said he was totally cool with us hanging out for a little bit."

Eyes wide, Heather gasped. Reves's hand flew over her mouth. With her shoulder holding the receiver in place, she brought the index finger of her other hand to her rouge painted lips. Her brows were furrowed together in a scowl.

Amy was silent a moment, "Eh, you're sure? I've never known Mark to be _"totally cool"_ with much of anything."

Reves's visage faltered a little. She was just glad Amy couldn't see her. "Well, you know. He bitched, of course," She said nonchalantly, "but as long as we don't do anything crazy and we're back in a couple hours."

Heather tore her sister's hand away. "Rev!" she whispered hoarsely.

Reves kicked her younger sister in the shin with her steel toed boot and continued listening to Amy.

"Ow!" Heather yelped in pain and rubbed the inflicted area.

"Yeah. You can come to our room and pick us up. No Dad's gone. Ok, see, ya!" Rev wrapped up the conversation and put the phone on the hook.

"Rev!" Heather scolded her when she hung up. "What are you thinking? You can't go out behind Daddy's back."

"Of course, we can," she replied unfazed, getting up to reapply her eyeliner.

"Oh no, I'm not going anywhere!"

"Are you seriously going to be a puss and just go to bed like some old lady?" Reves pressed. "You don't think it is the slightest bit unfair that Dad gets to run around with all his friends while we sit here like we're in a nursing home? Come on! We're teenagers, this is the shit we do. You really wanna look back on your life and realize you were a loser who only followed the rules and never did anything fun?" Reves asked as she pulled her to her feet.

"I didn't get the memo," Heather grumbled. "And, yes, because I will have made it to my elder years. Which is more than I can say for you if you go through with this."

Reves scoffed. "Well, I'm going whether you want to stay here and be a goody-two-shoes or not."

"Rev, really. Think about this," Heather pleaded.

"I have. Maybe you should think about not being such a prude," Reves said casually as she changed from her baggy jeans to a light leather skirt.

"I am not a prude," Heather protested, "I just-"

"I'm just a widdle, innocent baby, who can't fink for myself, or do anything if Mommy and Daddy don't tell me it's ok. Reves interrupted, mocking her in a high-pitched voice.

"Whatever." Heather jerked her head to the side. She was hoping even after watching her sister change her clothes that it was all a charade. Then, there was a knock on the door and she knew it was Amy, possibly the Hardys too. She gave her sister a pleading look while she grabbed her leather jacket and sauntered passed her.

"Last chance to prove you're not a total spaz." Reves tilled.

Had she not been so apprehensive, Heather would have reprimanded her on her dated slang just to trump her for her mockery.

Reves answered the door to Amy and the Hardys standing outside. "Hey guys," she grinned.

"Woah, Rev. We said we were gonna hang out, not hit every club in town," Jeff teased.

"Well, it's not my fault my dad is an old fogy and doesn't realize it's not 1952. I never get to wear this stuff."

The trio only rolled their eyes at the blonde teen.

"Where is Heather?" Amy asked.

"Eh, I think she's got a date at midnight, with Nosferatue," she said, referencing a Type O Negative song. Rev paused a moment. "Scratch that. He's too cool for her," she murmured more to herself than the others. "She's being a puss and doesn't want to come," she directed her attention to her friends.

"Well, whatever. That's fine," Matt shrugged.

Heather could hear them conversing in the adjacent section of the room. She stood there, rocking on her heels and wringing her hands. She was in a moral dilemma at the hands of her sister. She knew without question it was best to follow their father's instructions and stay in the room. On the other hand, she didn't appreciate her sister's disparagement at her expense. This was a topic they had seminars concerning in middle and high school gyms throughout the nation. It was called peer pressure and she could feel herself giving into it. Deep down, she knew this made her seem like a total lemming, but she didn't want Amy and the boys to think she was lame. Furthermore, she needed to look after her sister, right? That was one of her father's number one rules: if he wasn't around, they were to always stick together.

At that moment, Reves popped her head into the room. "Later, loser," she teased and then disappeared.

An aggravated sensation washed over Heather as she grabbed her high tops and sat down on the bed. _I should have told them she was lying. Why didn't I do that? _She wondered as she slipped on her shoes and tied the laces.

She knew perfectly well why she didn't reveal the truth. Firstly, she didn't want Reves angry at her. It was a pitiful excuse, but her sister was known to bare grudges over the simplest matters. Next, for whatever reason, she didn't want Amy and the guys to be upset with Rev. Thinking about it, the sooner it was revealed, probably the less damage it would inflict. But the ball was already rolling. She just hoped they wouldn't be in any deep trouble.

Heather grabbed her bag, slinging it on her back and exited the room, letting the door lock behind her. She stared at it for a moment. No going back now. She walked hurried down the hall, catching sight of the elevator doors closing at the end of the corridor.

She hoped that was them. She didn't shout out or make a scene because she had no desire to embarrass herself if it turned out not to be her friends. Besides, they wouldn't have been able to get the doors open in time. She prayed she could catch up with them before they left.

She continued on, her head slightly bent, as per the norm. As she rushed down the hall, almost reaching the elevator at the end, she collided with a mammoth figure as they were exiting their room. She let out an "Umph," as she stumbled backwards. "Oh, s-s-sorry," she stuttered immediately before even looking up. When she did, her face must have registered the shock she felt. She followed her gaze up to the face of the giant, Kevin Nash. Their eyes met briefly before her head shot back down. She felt the heat creeping across her cheeks. She repeated "S-sorry," as she stepped around him and his friend, Scott Hall before scurrying way.

Kevin shook his head. "That kid's got major issues. I'm telling you. What a fuckin' space-case," he told his best friend. He briefly wondered where she was rushing off to in such a hurry all by herself, but decided he didn't give a fuck that much.

"C'mon, brother. Let's have some fun," Scott tapped Kev's chest with the back of his hand.

"Damn right," Kevin grinned at him and pushed those melancholy, green eyes out of his thoughts. She was a teenager, and a female at that. They were always getting melodramatic about one thing or another.

Heather breathed a sigh of relief when she reached the elevator. She was used to seeing to wrestlers and other company employees around, but why did it appear that those two were ever present, no matter where that were? She supposed truthfully, she and her sister were in their territory, yet, it instilled an unnerving sensation within her.

She stepped off the elevator and gazed around the lobby. She didn't see her sister or the rest of the gang. She rushed outside. As much as she protested this little rendezvous, she wasn't too keen on being locked out of the room until her father (no doubt incurring his wrath) or Reves returned.

Scanning the parking lot, Heather's eyes fell upon the group getting into a rental car at the other end. She sprinted towards them. She waved her hands over her head feeling like a lunatic. When she closed distance, she shouted, "Hey guys! Wait for me," as they started to pull away

Matt, who was the driver, took notice of her and stopped the vehicle. She opened the door and hopped in the back next to Jeff.

Athletic was never a term one would use to describe Heather Calaway. Therefore, her breath came out shallow and ragged. Her face was flushed due to both her exertion and the degradation she suffered from her asinine display. Her limbs and her abdomen ached from her efforts.

Jeff looked at her with his kind green eyes, "Change your mind?" he asked.

Heather only smiled through her humiliation.

Reves, who was seated on the other side of Jeff, leaned forward to speak to her sister, "Can you go back to the door? I want to see that again." She broke into laughter mid-sentence.

Heather simply rolled her eyes as she fastened her seatbelt and Matt began to drive away.

"So where are we going anyway?" Reves wondered aloud.

There was silence for a moment before Matt finally spoke up. "Now don't go thinking this means you can go hog wild, but we know a guy who will let ya'll into his bar to sing karaoke. _Not_ to drink, ok?"

"What?" the sister practically shouted in unison.

"They let in 18 and up. Rev you're good and you will get a no-alcohol bracelet."

"Well, that'll come off easily," Reves quipped"

"For real," Amy said in a serious tone. "We are taking a huge risk here. Not only will Mark flip shit and want to kill us all, we could get I a lot of trouble for bringing someone underage in there and so could Benny."

"Wait, we can't do this. It's utterly ludicrous, not to mention, illegal!" Heather chimed in.

"Are you not already in the car?" Reves questioned her sister.

"Yes, but-"

"But, argument invalid."

"No, there is an exuberant amount of validity to my argument."

"Oh, speak plain fucking English for once," Reves barked.

"You are wrong," Heather said, flatly.

"Can't we just get along?" Jeff asked feigning uneasiness, "No need to fight."

"We're not fighting," they practically shouted at him

Jeff threw his arms up in defense. "Sorry," he demurred.

"In all sincerity, I do not believe this is the wisest idea," Heather reiterated.

Amy turned around and looked at her. "Heather it will be fine. Just stick close to up. We'll look after you. And we'll have you back in an hour or two," she smiled.

Approximately ten minutes later, Matt parked the car on the curb and the exited, heading towards the bar.

Matt headed to the side of the building in the alleyway. "We have to come in on the side," he told them.

They followed him, Heather towing the line. "Just when I though I was an unique individual, I find my life is a book of teenage tropes," she muttered to herself.


	7. Chapter 7

They approached the door and it opened as if they arrival had been anticipated at that exact moment. A short man on the plumper sider with tattoos and five or six facial piercings emerged in the doorway.

They two sisters exchanged a nervous glance. Even Rev had to admit that this was a little more than creepy and she was having second thoughts a little too late.

"Hey guys," he greeted the trio. He had to be Benny, the one matt mentioned. "Come on in." He pulled the door open wider and they followed him through it.

Both Rev and Heather hung back a moment, unsure of whether they should enter. After a moment, Rev grabbed Heather by the hand pulled her along. She felt her younger sister tense up as she did so.

They followed Benny into a dimly light hall. "Here are your no-alcohol bands." He held up the bright orange strips of paper. Reves offered her arm and he wrapped it around her wrist and secured it with an adhesive under a piece of peel-away wax paper. Heather reluctantly followed suit. "I don't expect to see you doing any drinking," he said firmly.

"Thanks for this man," Jeff said to him.

"No problem. Just so long as they don't cause any trouble," Benny replied, then disappeared.

"How'd you manage that?" Reves asked them.

"We hook him up with free merch. And tickets sometimes," Matt shrugged.

They emerged from the hall into a wide room with a small stage on the far wall. They lighting was barley any brighter than the hall and various colored spotlights pointed in different directions.

They noticed someone waving at them from a table in the left corner of the club. They approached the corner to see Adam, Jason and Trish sitting at the table.

"Mark actually let you out?" Jason asked in amazement.

"Well, I'm sure if he knew we were coming here he would have reconsidered." Reves casted as fake glare at her friends.

Apprehensively Heather stretched her lips into a sliver of a smile as they sat down at the table.

"Must be rough not having anyone your own age to hang out with," Trish said sympathetically.

Heather nodded in agreement, while Reves responded, "What's rough is having a dad who doesn't listen to anything you say and wants to keep you locked up like a damn animal."

Trish looked a little perplexed and shocked by the statement that came from Reves's mouth. "I'm…sorry," she said, at a loss of words.

"Well, at least he is giving you a little freedom," Adam stated unknowingly.

Reves simply replied with, "Yeah." Before looking away. Her eyes scanned the vicinity. When her gaze fell upon the back corner the breath caught in her chest. She stared at the figure a moment before her attention was driven away.

"Rev, what are you looking at?" Amy asked.

"Nothing," she smiled as convincingly as she could manage.

Amy chuckled. "Whatever."

Heather sat with her head lowered and her arms folded over her chest. She hadn't uttered a single word aside from the meek hello she gave when they first arrived. They others were chattering, but she was vaguely aware. She sighed. She wanted to go back to the hotel. She felt odd in this place and she was too frightened of their father discovering their activities. Uneasy, she shifted in her seat, regretting her choice to chase everyone down and tag along.

* * *

I thought Kid said this place was the shit?" Scott griped with his elbow propped on the table like a bored schoolboy.

Kevin turned towards his friend, his blonde hair falling off his shoulder. "No offense, you're really going to trust Kid's judgement in this? I'm sure he meant it was the _shits_."

This place _was _the shits. They should have turned around and went somewhere else when they saw the kids in from of them getting slapped with neon orange wrist bands indicating they couldn't drink. What kind of bar let in underage kids? Well, they were eighteen and up, at any rate. Must be what Kid was going on about, because the beer tasted like warm piss.

Kevin's eyes roamed the area. His gaze shifted to the far corner across the way. He recognized the Hardy brothers and some of their crew. He laughed caustically to himself. Of course, they would frequent a place like this. He took in the sight of two unfamiliar females. Fangirls or rats obviously - they were one in the same really.

His eyes zeroed in on the pair, narrowing once he got a clear view. No fucking way those two ankle-bitters were old enough to be there. Who the hell were they trying to fool? He wasn't sure why he even cared. Perhaps, he was damn tired of having to look at they everywhere he went.

Unintentionally, he growled low in his throat.

"Ya alright, big man?" Scott questioned his friend.

"Guess this place really is for kids." He nodded in direction of the young sisters.

Scott followed his gaze to the table in the far-left corner. His eyes immediately fell on that rebellious blonde. Painted dark red, her lips were stretched in a Cheshire grin as she laughed at a statement made by one of her companions. For whatever reason, he enjoyed seeing the smile on her face verses that permanent scowl. It was apparent she was enjoying herself too. It had to be relief to get out instead of being cooped up in the hotel.

Reves felt a pair of eyes on her and searched the room for their owner, whom turned out to be none other than The Bad Guy. Her bright blue orbs locked onto his deep browns from across the room. She willed her heart to stop racing as she tried to maintain her impenetrable demeanor, both before him and in the presence of her friends. He grinned back at her and she sucked in a sharp breath as she nervously toyed with a lock of her cascading tendrils. She broke the gaze as the blush spread across her cheeks, causing her to curse at herself.

Kevin looked at his friend with a raised eyebrow. "You ok, there buddy?" he asked Scott.

The goofy grin faded from Scott's face. "Yeah Chico,"" he replied, but Kevin as scarcely paying any mind once he noticed Matt and Jeff heading up to the bar.

Kevin got up from the table and sauntered over towards where Matt and Jeff were standing, waiting for the bartender to deliver their drinks. He approached them from behind and slapped them both on the back. "Well, hey boys! How the hell are ya?" His hands came up, clenching the back of their necks.

With an air of aggravation, they glanced behind them. "Oh. Hey Nash." Jeff paused, looking past Kevin, "What's up, Hall?" he said to Scott who was now standing beside Kevin.

"Can we help you?" Matt asked, his fist clenched. He had half a mind to turn around and clock Nash in his face, but he wasn't in the mood for a fight let alone getting his ass kicked. Though he knew if it came to a brawl Adam and Jay would have their backs.

"Now what do you think Mark would do if he knew you had his precious daughters hanging out in bars?" Scott asked, in a contrite voice.

"I don't know. Are you going to be tattle tails now, just like you're bullies, apparently?" a voice interjected before either Hardy could answer. Reves stood leaning against the bar. Her eyes came directly to meet Scott again.

"Ah, Chica now we didn't mean any harm. Did we Big Kev?" Scott asked as Kevin released Matt and Jeff.

Reves felt a shiver involuntarily streak down her spine when he called her that. It was bad enough that being in such proximity to him put her body on edge.

"Wow really? We know we're a couple of scumbag assholes, but even we wouldn't bring a couple of underaged kids to the bar and let them drink," Kevin said defensively.

"Um, hello," Reves held up the arm that bared the orange band and twisted her wrist for emphasis.

"We ain't letting 'em drink!" Jeff replied, incredulously.

"We just wanted to let them get out to their room," Matt added.

Suddenly Reves let out a squeal that sounded positively alien coming from her as she jumped up and down and clapped her hands. She smiled and faced the small platform that made up the makeshift stage toward the back of the club. "She's gonna do it!" Reves cheered.

All four men followed her gaze and their eyes fell upon Heather's petite form.

She stood awkwardly, her arms down at her side, fists curled into nervous balls. She stared out with that apprehensive "deer in the headlights" expression in her eyes. People in the vicinity continued to chatter, paying no mind to the pixie-like creature as she cautiously approached the microphone stand and closed her eyes.

"Hmph," Kevin shook his head. That poor girl was going to make an absolute fool of herself up there and her so called _friends_ were going to stand and watch. Call it pity, but he didn't want to stick around to witness her inflict such embarrassment on herself. He tapped Scott's arm and canted his head toward the door.

As the two were making their way to the exit the opening riff of Bush's grunge hit "Glycerin" pervaded the club.

Heather, eyes still closed, swayed her hips slowly with her feet planted firmly in place. Her head bobbed to the sound of the distorted guitars. This was one of her favorite songs, therefore, she had no use for the prompter. She kept her eyes closed to block the sight of the people and focused on the music over their chatter. She took a deep breath and began to sing, making certain to project her voice.

By the time Heather began the first verse, Hall and Nash were nearly at the doors. This took Kevin by utter surprise as he found himself stopped in his tracks. He was nowhere near prepared for the ethereal voice that carried out over the din. Her voice had a quality that was innocent and angelic, but marked with a sadness. He turned to with her with fascination as her body slowly met every note.

By the second verse, her striking green eyes opened cautiously, taking in the collection of people. Some of them were now focusing their attention on the petite girl, others continued on, oblivious. Heather's eyes roamed the room finding her sister and her friends. They looked on approvingly. It gave her a certain type of courage and peace. She had had and immense amount of apprehension and fear about getting up on stage after what had happened at school. Yet, the melody and the emotions took her over. Maybe she was getting better after all, or at least better at swallowing it down.

"We going big guy?" Scott asked Kevin as he stood behind him.

"Yeah, in a minute." He didn't turn to look at Scott, but began moving further into the room. He wasn't sure if her was more intrigued by the angelic voice or the fact that she was up there at all, singing with such passion.

He stood and watched her with an attentive curiosity. The way she gripped the microphone stand as her body responded to every note. He had to admit he was a little shocked. The kid actually had talent and a lot of potential.

Her eyes closed again as the breakdown of strings entered the fold during the bridge. When her eyes opened again, they shifted across the room and were caught by his piercing gaze. As their eyes locked onto one another's, her heart thumped against her chest and she jumped inside her skin, but didn't faulter in her performance. She continued sing her passionate lamentation as the heat crawled to her cheeks, rendering a crimson mantle across her visage.

Feeling overwhelmed by his studying gaze, she finally looked away while the song was drawing to a close. As the music faded out, she let go of the stand. Her stance became awkward again and the shrinking violet began to reemerge. It was as if she was in a trance while singing and the spell was wearing off.

Her entourage erupted into a frenzy of cheers, whistles and clapping. A handful of the other patrons did the same. Kevin clapped for her as well, the corners of his mouth tugging into a grin. Heather smiled weakly and stepped off the stage.

"Woah, pretty good," Scott commented, now standing at his side.

"Not bad," Kevin shrugged.

They watched her approach the group as her sister embraced her. "You did it you, dweeb!" she teased affectionately.

Heather rolled her eyes, but grinned shyly as she pushed her glasses up on her nose.

That bashful smile worked inside Kevin. She was strangely beautiful with her elated expression and the kid should have been proud of her performance. He wanted to congratulate the kid, but decided it was best not to after the scene with the Hardys.

"Alright, it's my turn!" Reves announced throwing her hands in the air.

Scott and Kevin looked at each other, curious as to what song she would choose and if she sounded anything like her sister.

Reves took the platform with an air of confidence. She seemed to make her presence known and command attention without speaking. After a moment of waiting, she said into the mic, "Hit the damn music. Jeez guys!"

Reves sung "Rebel Yell" by Billy Idol.

Heather's voice was ethereal and haunting, whereas Reves had a voice that was like ka powerhouse with a bluesy tone. She harkened to the vibe of women like Joan Jet and Lita Ford.

She was good at playing to the crowd, pumping her fist and headbanging. Every now and then, she looked directly at Scott as she belted the rock anthem.

Scott watched her up on stage as she moved like she owned the damn thing. Her voice was phenomenal and she certainly was a looker in her short skirt and leather jacket.

As she finished her song, over half the bar erupted into cheers. Some even gave a standing ovation. Reves grinned widely as she took a bow, her cascading blonde hair sweeping forward and flying back when she stood. She left the stage and rejoined her friends.

Heather hugged her sister in return. "So good," she murmured with a smile.

"That was awesome," Jason said.

"I guess you could say it reeks of awesomeness!" Adam quipped and they high-fived just like their characters used to do.

Reves rolled her eyes, but smirked, "Spare me." She looked around the semi-circle everyone had formed. "So, who's next?"

"Where'd you kids get the pipes?" a smooth voice asked before anyone could say more.

Everyone turned to the left to see Hall and Nash, now standing beside them. The voice belonged to Scott.

Heather's eyes widened while everyone else seemed mildly annoyed.

"I thought you were leaving," Reves snipped folding her arms over her chest.

"Damn, you can't take a compliment, can you?" Kevin barked back.

Her devil may care expression waved momentarily. They like their singing? Damn her heart shouldn't bee beating like this; she shouldn't be having the blood rushing through her veins. Saving herself, she retorted her defense, "Well, you laughed at us when we said we were recording a song. What now?"

"Still haven't heard that one," Amy grumbled.

"That doesn't matter right now," Reves responded to her friends teasing.

"Alright. They were trying to be nice," Trish put a hand on Reves's arm.

As the conversation went on, Kevin watched the little one with the black hair standing there squeamishly, her hands behind her back. She looked completely out of her element her. (Never mind the fact that she certainly was. Yet, her big sis seemed to be playing the role with ease). This whole time, the only moments where she didn't look like a frightened cat were when she was up there singing. Even now, staring at the floor she inched back from the group.

"Ok guys, who is going next?" Reves demanded again, returning to ignoring the two outsiders.

"What do you say Ams, you want to give it a go?" Trish asked a she nudged Amy's arm.

"Yeah, why not?" Amy smiled.

After taking a turn, they all pushed the sisters back on stage.

"But we've already done a song," Heather protested.

"Yes, but everyone loved you two," Trish told her. "Besides, this is about you guys having fun for once."

Heather was certain whether that was so. They had already made plans to come out. They merely invited her and her sister to tag along. Heather didn't mention it however.

Reves was tugging on her sister's arm. "What should we sing?" she questioned.

"Ohhh, _Africa_, by Toto," Heather smiled shyly.

Reves narrowed her eyes. "You know I don't know that song."

"That's why there's a prompt-"

"Nope. Sorry, I l don't think so."

Heather sighed.

"_Like a Virgin_," Reves grinned wickedly.

"Eww, no way!" Heather's face flared and she glanced around quickly, wondering if anyone had heard them.

Reves cut her eyes towards Heather. "What do you say to _Reaper_?"

"Yes, that would do fine," Heather agreed.

"Alright, cue the cow bell," Reves stepped to the microphone and spoke.

They two girls took turns, making it into a duet they must have put a little work into at some point.

Heather seemed to be a little more confident when she was sharing the stage with her sister. Their voices were and interesting dynamic and they actually complimented one another quite well.

When they returned to their friends, they realized that Scott Hall and Kevin Nash were still there as they approached them.

"I'm kind of surprised you know that song," Scott said.

"Why?" Reves narrowed her eyes.

"Well, it is super fucking edgy," Kevin nudged Scott.

Reves glared at him.

"Aww, I love the mushy parts. Especially about Romeo and the broad," Scott teased.

"Actually, Romeo was an arrogant narcissist whose devotions were fleeting and fickle, at best. And poor Juliet by the way, was naive and too trusting. They attraction to one another was both toxic and volatile. Conclusively, Romeo and Juliet is a tale of how everyone needs to – for lack a proper term – chill out." It was Heather that had spoken up, until she realized everyone was staring at her.

Kevin's eyes were trained on her, "Is that so?" he asked.

"Well, y-yes," Heather's eyes were down casted and her voice shook.

"No one cares, dork," Reves teased her.

Matt looked at his watch. "Shit, we better get you two back," she said to the teenagers.

The bid goodbye to the men known as the Outsiders and left.

When they returned to the hotel, they had scarcely been in the room five minutes before they heard the door open, indicating their father was back. Shutting out the light, they scrabbled into bed with their clothes still on and pretended to be sleeping as their father opened the door to check on them.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Thank you to Morrowsong for the review. Yes, I do plan to continue. It 's just that life had been a little hectic right now. Hope you enjoy.**

***Warning: Sexual content***

* * *

Kevin inserted his key into the front door with a sigh of relief. Finally, a couple days off. It's not like he was a stranger to working (contrary to popular belief), but going from sitting on your ass for la year to running around twenty plus days a month was leaving his body in physical shock. Of course, Vince was going to work him like a bitch, along with Scotty and Hogan too. That's what Vince did; he hooked you with a deal, then came all the fine print.

"Ten days a month my ass," he muttered to himself as he pushed open the door, dragging his suitcase behind him. He closed the door and left his luggage in the front hall. Then he suddenly remembered how full the mailbox looked. Fuck it. He'd get it later.

He headed for the kitchen and opened the fridge. It was bare aside from some condiment bottles, a few containers of Chinese he forgot to throw out before he left for the last run, and a six-pack of beer. He grabbed one of the cans and cracked it open, taking a long swig. Entering the living room, he noticed the answering machine blinking. It was Scotty making sure he got in alright. At least someone gave a damn.

He grabbed the cordless handset off the dock and dialed up his best friend. They didn't stay on the phone long. They just like to check on each other as he and his friends did, especially with Scott and he both being divorced.

After hanging up with Scott, he noticed the deafening silence closing in around him. He had been divorced nearly two years now. In that time, he had gotten used to being alone when he came home. That was when he sat home for a year. Coming back on the road and then coming back to an empty house made it feel like it was happening all over again.

She said she couldn't handle it anymore. She couldn't stay in a marriage where he was only present part of the time. Not to mention, he had had multiple affairs. Yes, he was a real scumbag piece of shit. He had never meant for anything like that to happen.

There was a lot he didn't think would happen before getting into professional wrestling. Still, he did it all and then some. It was a shark tank and it was kill or be killed. As fun and awesome as it was a times, it was miserable and depressing at others. Despite everything, he thanked god every day for his brothers, the KLIQ.

Kevin grabbed the remote and turned on the television, the room filling with voices that provided a little comfort. He walked over to the sliding glass door, looking out at the ocean as his back yard. He had always wanted to live on the beach, but he had no one to share it with now.

He had been living in Scottsdale, Arizona while her was married. After the divorce, he moved to Florida. He was renting an apartment a few miles from where Scott lived in Tampa for five months or so. He then decided he like that he liked the Daytona area better and bought a small house on the opposite coast. It was only a two bedroom, well because he didn't need anything else. Just a spare room for when his buddies came to visit.

He took another swallow of her beer and watched the tide coming in. All these guys buying eight-bedroom mansions were jackasses. People liked to shit on him because he knew how to get his money. Well he wasn't going to squander it on useless shit either. He wasn't stupid. He knew he couldn't do this forever and was going to have to have something to live off of. He was doing everything to secure the future, their future. But that was over now.

He finished his beer and tossed the can on the trash. He wasn't sure where this sudden wave of depression came from, but he had a feeling he might need to run out for more beer.

* * *

It was the last week before Wrestlemania. Everything would get more stressful and a little hectic in the days to come. There was so much planning and preparation to pull off the biggest show in sports entertainment. Wrestlemania was the wrestling equivalent to the NFL's Superbowl and if anyone asked the Calaway sisters, they would say it was much more entertaining.

Speaking of the pair, their father was on the hunt for them. He was in somewhat of a foul disposition as he had told those girls for the umpteenth time not to leave the dressing room. Their school work was coming due and they hadn't submitted anything in over two weeks.

Mark entered catering and scanned the area. He didn't see them.

"Hey Mark, everything ok?" It was Lisa Moretti otherwise known as Ivory. She and Jaqueline had helped train Sara when she had her stint on TV.

"Looking for the girls," he said in an aggravated voice.

Lisa simply laughed. "I'm surprised those girls haven't' driven you completely insane by now."

"No, believe me. I'm there," Mark replied and he couldn't help but give a little chuckle.

"I'll keep an eye out for them," Lisa said before they parted ways.

"Yo Mark," Scott Hall had called him from across the room. "I think I saw two little shrimps down there, running the ropes," he said as the infamous trio comprised of Nash, Hogan and himself approached him.

Mark released an agitated growl. Of all things, he continuously expressed that the damn ring was without a doubt off limits. "It figures," he spat. "Those girls believe they are destined for greatness. But right now, the only things they are destined for is an essay and some calculus work. I'll check down there," he said and headed off.

"Are we tattle tails now?" Kevin asked his friend with an air of amusement.

"That blonde one is too cocky. She could stand to be taken down a peg or two." Scott smirked. Truthfully, there was something about her blunt confidence that caught his attention, though he couldn't admit it.

* * *

When Mark found the girls, they received a massive scolding and rough lecturing. "I want this done tonight so I can send it off tomorrow," Mark commanded. "I'll be back after I get done with the meeting," he said as he headed towards the door. He stopped and turned. "Get it done. I mean it!" He was speaking mostly to Reves, but Heather was not going to take his word lightly. He left his daughters in his dressing room to complete their work.

As soon as Mark was gone, Heather sat down cross-legged on the floor in from of the coffee table. She grabbed her bag and began taking out her materials. "How is your essay coming?" she asked her sister, knowing she hadn't even begun to work on it.

"Fine," Reves replied in a snarky tone, crinkling her nose. She didn't have any plans to write an essay for her brain-dead college professor. The subject matter was stupid and pointless. She knew the "Prince of Darkness" would be holding court for quite some time. There was something she was after and she was tired of waiting. If Daddy could play games and keep secrets, so could she.

"What's the topic, again?" Heather asked, pulling her from her train of thought.

Reves huffed. "It's on how I think technology will shape our relationships in the future. How the fuck should I know. Maybe, he should go watch the Jetsons or something."

Heather giggled a little. Her sister was always getting unnecessarily riled. She opened her workbook with a contented sigh. She loved school, or rather she loved learning. It was usually calming and gave her a sense of accomplishment. Of course, she maintained a 4.0 GPA.

"Where are you going?" Heather asked in an anxious voice.

"I don't know. I might just gain more experience for my essay," Reves said cryptically with a sly grin.

"Rev, seriously. Do you really think it's a good idea to upset Daddy after the tongue lashing, we just received? He'll be livid!" The fear was creeping into her voice as she came to a standing position.

Reves rolled her eyes, hard. "Oh, please. It's not like you'll be in trouble," she scoffed. "Just go crunch your numbers, little goody two-shoes dork." She waved her sister away.

Heather exhaled sharply. She was always mild mannered and even tempered, but she didn't always take kindly to her sister's mocking. She sat back down with the knowledge that she had been defeated. Again.

As her sister skipped to the door, Heather called her name in one last attempt. When Reves turned towards her with narrowed eyes, she received confirmation that her pleading was futile. She looked down at her work, her shoulders sagging. She hoped her sister couldn't get herself entangled into any sort of calamity.

Reves was making her way cautiously through the corridors. She wasn't exactly sure where the wrestler's court was being held and she certainly wouldn't be thrilled if she got busted wondering around.

* * *

"Where's Terry?" Kevin had asked Scott as he came out of the bathroom.

Scott looked over at his friend and shrugged his shoulder. Hulk wasn't one to always hang with the boys, but he somehow seemed more aloof since returning to WWE.

"I'm fucking parched. You want something to drink, brother?" Kevin then feigned a glare. "It's too early for boozes."

"You're one to talk," Scott chuckled as he raised his middle finger. "Nah, man. I'm good."

"Alright then. I'll be right back," Kev said walking towards the door.

Reves had arrived at the destination she sought. As she approached, she heard the door opening. She stole around the corner nearby. Plastering herself against the wall, she watched the nearly seven-foot-tall, Kevin Nash pass by unknowingly.

Good. He was gone. For how long? And was that geezer, Hogan still around? Checking down the hall, there were no longer any signs of Nash. She emerged from around the corner and approached the door with a sign boosting the nWo logo. She prayed he was alone in there, otherwise this would be extremely awkward. She knew somehow, he was the one who told Mark about them playing around down in the ring. She was going to make him understand he was better off holding his tongue.

She ran a hand through her flowing platinum hair. She looked at her shaking hand. Why was she doing that? She shouldn't be nervous. At least that is what she told herself, despite the fact that she had every reason to be.

Reves raised a trembling hand and rapped on the door with her knuckles. She momentarily thought she should forget this business, but she willed herself to stay and smoothed her clothes. She waited a minute or so with no answer. Maybe he wasn't there either she thought to herself ash she knocked again. She quickly raised her arm and rested it on the door frame and leaning against it as the door quickly swung open.

Her heart skipped a beat and a shiver ran down her spine as her eyes fell upon him in his tight jeans and fitted shirt. His hair was down, falling at his shoulders. She grinned coyly as she felt her body tingle. Looking at him, she forgot all her nerves.

Scott stared at her quizzically for a few moments. "Can I help you?" he asked. Fuck, why was she looking at him like that?

Without uttering a word, she walked past him right into the room, looking back at him over her shoulder. She stopped in the center of the room and turned towards him with her hands on her hips. "I sure hope you can help me," she said, "but I know I can certainly help you."

There was a gleam in her eyes that was all too familiar, he just couldn't bring himself to say what it was. Despite his better judgement, he let the door fall shut behind him. He approached her and for some reason, he felt his body go on edge. Standing mere inches away, he looked at her and smirked. "And just how do you think you're going to help me, little lady?"

Pushing her hands against the firm muscle of his chest, she shoved him down onto the black leather couch and quickly straddled his lap. She leaned in close to his ear and spoke in a low and husky tone, "I'm gonna be your Bad Girl."

A shock ran through Scott's body like electricity as her words assaulted his ear. The sensation traveled down to his groin, causing his cock to lurch against the gentle pressure of her body across his lap. She shuddered in response and before he could say a word, her lips came crashing down over his.

Scott was stunned. Through out his professional career he had had countless women approach him wanting to hook up, but never had he met anyone this bold. This shouldn't have come as a surprise to him by the way she looked at him, her smug attitude, but it did. At first, he was too taken back to respond, but he soon realized how amazing be kissed by her felt.

Reves's heart thudded against her chest when he returned her kiss. His arm came around her, hand pressing against her back and pushing her body against him. She shivered as his rough facial hair scrapped against her soft skin.

Their lips crashed together feverishly, slipping away into each other. Tongues met one another's, battling for dominance

Scott was fully hard now, his cock straining against his tight jeans. He was on the verge of exploding already. He had been with women both older and younger. The younger ones, though smoking hot and all too eager to please, had little experience. Where the hell had she learned to make out like this?

Suddenly Scott realized: this girl was Mark Calaway's daughter! He was the patriarch of the WWE locker room. No one would dare disrespect him in such a manner. It would almost be the equivalent to walking straight up to Vince McMahon and literally spitting in his face.

"Hey," he said, trying to break away. "How old are you anyway?" he asked in between her onslaught.

Reves didn't miss a beat. Quickly she pulled her lips away from his mouth, lining his rugged jaw with kisses. "Nineteen," she panted with a sultry tone.

Scott struggled to think clearly. This girl was fucking hot and hell, she was legal. But she was also Mark's daughter, fucking Undertaker! He never had a fear of Mark under normal circumstances, but he was definitely the type to kill for his kids.

As these thoughts were swimming in his head, Scott was vaguely aware of the girl's nimble fingers unbuckling his belt. She caressed the bulge that was threatening to split the seam of his jeans before undoing the button and pulling on his zipper, offering him a little relief.

Moving off his to his right side, she slipped her hand into his pants and wrapped her palm around his throbbing member. Her hand glided back and forth over the smooth skin causing him to release a low groan.

She bit her lip. Damn, he felt big. The thought made her shudder with desire. She pulled him out and her eyes fell upon the engorged erection within her hands. She noticed the tip glistening as she rubbed her thumb gently across the head.

Scot groaned. He was trying to fight this. Fuck was he trying! At least that is what he was telling himself. He exhaled sharply. "Look, maybe this isn't such a good idea," he said shakily as he tried to move her hand away.

Reves's blue orbs locked onto his deep brown ones. "If you're going to tell on me to my old man, you may as well tell him something worth hearing," she said with a seductive smile.

"Holy shit," Scott whispered hoarsely as her slick, warm mouth came down over him and completely engulfed his rock-hard member.


	9. Chapter 9

**Warning: Bullying and suicide discussed.**

* * *

Kevin was making his way back to the nWo locker room when a faint melody caught his attention. Concentrating on the noise, he strained his ears to hear the music. What song was this? He felt like he had heard it years, possibly even decades ago. Moving further down the hall, the music was getting louder, though it wasn't blaring. Following the sound, he arrived outside of Mark's locker room. The music was coming from inside and he was sure it was the sisters who where listening to it. It didn't sound like Mark's type of stuff.

Then he heard an unexpected, anguished cry from the other side of the door. He stopped to listen. Next came a frustrated groan. What was that? Where they ok in there?

Against his better judgement he knocked on the door. He wasn't sure if Mark was in there or not. He knew it was really none of his business, but he wanted to make sure they weren't hurt or in pain. He briefly wondered why he cared, but it was truthfully part of his nature. He had earned a reputation as a heartless asshole over the years, but he genuinely cared about people's welfare. It was when people made the mistake of fucking with his buddies that the ogre came out in him.

The knock on the door caused Heather to jump, making her heart race. Who was that? Her father wouldn't knock. Neither would Rev. That meant it was likely someone inquiring after her father. Her shoulders sagged. She let out an anxious sigh, followed by a frown. She came to the conclusion that she would be the one to answer the door.

Reves was always the one to answer the door when their father was away. He wasn't particularly pleased with that, but sometimes people had important messages to deliver to him.

She kept still a few moments. Maybe they would come back later. Then the knocking came once more. She lowered her head and sighed. She knew if anyone had witnessed her at that moment, they would deduce that she was completely pathetic. She slowly rose and began making her way to the door.

Heather prayed silently it was not Mr. McMahon. He terrified her with his imposing stance and booming voice. Placing her hand on the door knob, she hesitated a moment, then scolded herself for being so ridiculous.

She turned the door knob, then cautiously opened the door a few feet. "Y-yes?" she asked in her timid voice. She looked up at the face of the seven-footer, Kevin Nash. Her face flushed a deep crimson upon the sight of him.

Kevin was surprised the little sister was answering the door. He noticed right away the bright glow that always seemed to stain her cheeks. Her large, wide eyes were staring up at him with curiosity.

When his eyes connected to hers, her gaze became down cast. "My father isn't here right now," she muttered.

"Where is he?" Kev wasn't looking for Mark, but since she mentioned it, he figured he would ask.

Her gaze flicker upward, briefly. "The Lord of Darkness is holding court." She had always enjoyed the sound of that, but once she had said it out loud, she silently reprimanded herself for uttering something so idiotic.

Kevin had thought he had seen a vague smile tugging at the corners for her mouth, but it disappeared quick as a flash. Nodding, he stayed silent for a moment. "It sounded like someone was hurt. You kids ok in there?"

Her mantle deepened. She did not realize she had made such a commotion. She had acted quite dramatic had she not? "It's just me, I'm afraid. And yes, I am quite alright. Merely frustrated," she admitted.

"What's the matter?" He wasn't sure why he was curious, but he was.

"Oh, it's just some bothersome Calculous work." Heather replied, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. She had to say, she was a bit taken back at his inquiry.

"Maybe I can help you," he said, much to her surprise and to his a well.

"You know Calculus?" she questioned in amazement, pushing the black frames up on her face.

He somehow found her action the be very endearing, though he hadn't the slightest hint as to why. "I did. About a thousand years ago," he joked.

Without conscience contemplation, Heather opened the door wider and Kevin walked in. He saw the books and papers sitting on the coffee table at the center of the room.

Heather returned to were she was seated previously on the floor, while Kevin sat down on the plush leather couch. He took hold of the paper she seemed to be working on. "Woah," Kev exhaled sharply and shook his head. He had worked with these formulas, but that was way back in college, before this girl was probably even alive.

His eyes scanned the paper for the last problem she was struggling with. He took a look at her work book. Even though this was years past him, he noticed her issue right way. He placed the paper back on the table in front of her. "You have the two and the five mixed up here," he pointed out to her gently.

Heather's jaw fell open as if it had suddenly come unhinged. Her eyes darted back and forth between her work book and the paper. The color in her face erupted like lava. She lamented, "Transposed numbers? You have got to be kidding me!" She had been having a rough time concentrating. She was too worried about Rev.

Heather dropped her head, face first on the table. "Ouch," she winced. When she raised her head, the paper had clung over her face. She tore it way, positive she looked like an absolute imbecile.

Kevin chuckled. He had to admit, there was something about this little girl's dorkiness that somehow made her surprisingly charming.

Heather looked away, wringing her hands nervously. She recognized that laugh. It was that pitiful _you poor idiotic loser_ laugh. She had received it from peers at school as well as her father's co-workers. "T-thank you. I am really striving to graduate early, by the end of the school year, so my coursework is doubled." she forced herself to speak despite her feelings of disparagement.

"No problem," Kevin replied. That sounds like a substantial load, he thought. He noticed a stack of textbooks and other work books sitting at the other end of the table. A top the pile sat a novel. Kevin's curiosity as to what tale she was devouring now bested him and he picked it up.

The cover was adorned with the image of a young girl. She had a lollipop to her lips, eyes peering out coyly over heart shaped sunglasses. "Lolita?" he read aloud. "Your old man lets you read this garbage?" he asked incredulously.

Heather's eyes protruded from her head as she snatched the lecherous tome from him. She concealed it under a stack of papers, resting her arm on top. "It's on assignment," she whispered. "I have to write a thesis on why Humbert is an unreliable narrator."

Kevin only nodded. He had never read the book, but he had seen bits and pieces of the Jeremy Irons film. Heavy stuff, to say the least.

With her arm still over the pile, Kevin's eyes were then drawn to the inside of Heather's wrist, more specifically the egregious scar that ran approximately two inches in length down the center. "What is that?" he questioned without hesitation.

Coming to the realization of his inquiry, Heather instantly pulled her arm down into her lap and covered the scar with her hand as if she could erase the sight of it.

She didn't meet his eyes, but he watched them cloud over with a harrowing pain. It pervaded the atmosphere of the room, covering it with an unmistakable blanket of sorrow. Her mind seemed to be recalling some distant memory that she was struggling to keep buried and Kevin almost instantly regretted asking.

To his surprise, she spoke after a few moments, though she didn't look at him. "It's why I'm here," she said in an even but lifeless tone.

"I don't understand what you mean," Kevin told her in confusion.

She expelled a heavy sigh. "Well, about six months ago," she paused. "I, I tr-tried to, to kill myself," She choked out.

Heather's eyes started to well with tears and she lowered her head. "There was this girl, a group of girls, actually. They had bullied me for the longest time. Though this one in particular was the puppet master, the other's were her acolytes." She stopped a moment.

There were very few times in his life that Kevin Nash was ever rendered speechless. This was one of those times. He only stared at the top of her hanging head, her long ebony tendrils creating a veil over her face. What kind of savage assholes would bully this tiny, bashful creature?

"The irony of it is that girl, the leader, was once my closest friend. We met the first day of Kindergarten and we were nearly inseparable. But after she spent the summer before sixth grade in California with her aunt, she was only obsessed with boys and fashion. Myself, I was into music and books, much like today," she said sounding embarrassed. "She started hanging out with a different group. At first, she would ditch me for these other girls. But then it turned into name calling and taunting and if you asked Brittany, she would tell you we had never been friends."

"One day after P.E. class," she breathed out deeply and kept her head inclined. "I was ch-changing in a bathroom stall. When I came out, they all surrounded me," her voice was cracking. "They, they t-tore all my, my…clothes off. Then they shoved me completely n-naked, into the boys' locker room where the JV team was getting ready for practice. It was mortifying and terrifying. The terrible things those boys said."

When she raised her head her usually shining emerald eyes looked completely dead. Although her voice relayed her distress, her face was a mask, devoid of emotion. "I knew I couldn't show my face in school again, so when I got home that day, I resolved to end my misery. This was during that whole DDP stalker angle, when my mother was traveling with my father a lot."

Heather was twirling a loose thread at the hem of her shirt casually between her fingers as she spoke. "They weren't due home for a couple of days. I deduced that I would be long expired by then, but it would seem Mr. McMahon had given them some extra time off," she shrugged. "I had forgotten to lock the door and my mother can in and found me in the bathtub, right as I had just…" Her voice trailed off, but there was no need to finish. The images were painted all too vividly.

She had no explanation as to why she was telling him all of this. He was just going to think she was some sort of cutter freak.

"Anyway, they withdrew me from school and here Reves and I are," she said as she tugged on the thread that was twisted around her finger and it snapped.

So that explained her somber demeanor, the melancholy expression behind her striking eyes. "I'm sorry you had to go through that," Kevin said, his timbre low and gentle.

"Why?" she asked in bewilderment. Her eyes met his once again, though her brows were furrowed as she was on the defense. She noted the flecks if golden brown in his eyes before she said, "It's not like you did anything."

Heather quickly dropped her head, stunned by the tone in which she had spoken.

"No one should be made to feel so low they want to take their own life," he said sympathetically.

To Heather his words sounded more like pity. "Perhaps for some." She was silent a moment. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly normal."

Next, Heather was so stunned by the booming laughter that was expelled by the behemoth, she nearly jump out of her skin. Perplexed, she stared at him with her large doe eyes. She hadn't the slightest comprehension as to what was so comical about her statement.

"Sweetheart, who the fuck is normal?" he asked, holding her gaze. "Take myself for example, I was over six foot tall by the time I was twelve years old. There are not many people who can make that claim."

Her face flared up again and Kevin swore he saw the hint of a smile as she bit her lip. Yes, but there were not many people who were going to bully him. Not unless their brain cell count was only in the single digits.

Heather was now twisting the ends of one of the long tendrils that fell over her shoulder, creating a spiral of black and violet. "M-may I say something? If It's not too forward, that is." She briefly glanced up at him, then back down to the coil of hair between her slender fingers.

"Sure, kid. Shoot," he said, leaning forward slightly.

"I hope this will not present itself as indignant, but you seem to have a lot of time on your hands compared to my father," she said, then wished immediately, that she could retract her statement.

Kevin smirked and rubbed the goatee on his chin. "Well, let's just say we aren't the most popular guys in the locker room. Not like Mark, who everyone respects. Not to mention, I try to keep my obligations as low as fucking possible," he chuckled.

Heather's lips tugged into a small grin and she repositioned her glasses which had slipped down her pert nose again. "Thank you for helping me, Mr. Nash," she squeaked as she straightened a few papers.

Although she was mum on the matter, Kevin was sure she was thanking him for more than locating her mathematical error. He felt for this kid. She was sweet, certainly a little naive. That coupled with her tiny stature, with out a doubt made her an easy target. It wasn't any surprise why Mark was so protective of his girls and of her especially.

Kevin smirked at the docile creature. "You're welcome. And by the way, it's Kev, remember?"

"Oh, um, ok. Thanks…" she paused briefly, mustering the straight to utter his first name. "K-kev." She winced as if she had been slapped. There were very few people she was on a first name basis with, aside from the Hardys and Amy.

She wasn't meeting his gaze until he spoke after a few moments. "Well, I'll let you get back to it. Good luck, kid," he said as he stood.

Heather craned her neck to peer up at the giant, now towering over her. Although she was used to being in the company of gargantuan athletes and despite the fact that Kevin and her father were approximately the same height, she still found it imposing to be in such close proximity to such a behemoth.

"Th-thank you," she muttered again as he let himself out of the room.

Thinking on their conversation, Kevin was wonder struck that she had shared such an intimate and harrowing aspect of her life. He wasn't sure what had persuaded her to do so, but he was glad he understood some of the sorrow behind those striking emerald eyes. Still, there was yet something else there. His heart went out to the kid when she mentioned Mark and how much time he spent working. He couldn't shake the notion that she felt quite a lot of disconnect despite traveling with him all the time.

As Kevin rounded the corner a mass of blonde hair collided into his chest. The figure stumbled backwards. Those piercing blue belonging to Reves Calaway shot up towards him. Her hair along with the rest of her appearance was disheveled.

"Oh. Sorry dude," she offered hastily as she rushed off. It was evident she as racing back to Mark's dressing room before he returned.

Kevin shook his head. Where had she been and what had she been doing to cause her to look like such a mess?


	10. Chapter 10

WrestleMania weekend had finally arrived! It was a Friday morning and the sister's were in their rooms going through last minute check lists before heading out for this run.

Everything seemed to be in order. Heather made certain that she was bringing along quite a few good books for the lulls. She laid them over her clothes and packed them down carefully before zipping her suitcase. She knew her father would be far too busy this weekend and he wouldn't want to stop at any bookstores or shops in order for her to pick up new materials.

Her copy of Vladimir Nabokov's controversial novel sat on her bed amid a host of other stories she had already consumed. She went to return the books to get shelf. She stopped and stared at the cover, blushing as she thought of the contents of its pages. Truth is, if Mark knew Simon, her tutor, had tasked her with reading and analyzing such a diabolical tale, he would have had the man six feet under, no kayfab required. That was the draw back of having the reading level of a senior in college, she supposed.

Placing the rest of the books on the shelf she unzipped her suitcase and slipped the book inside. She was still writing her thesis and she would likely need it as a reference.

Her thoughts had wondered to her conversation with Kevin Nash, replaying their words in her head. It was all so surreal. She fixed her eyes on the scar inside her left wrist. Her fingertips traced the raised flesh, remnants of her _healing_. She had yet to discern her reasoning for divulging her attempt to depart from this world. No one had ever really noticed her scar any more than they noticed her. If they had, they would turn a blind eye to it.

When Kevin Nash had inquired, he seemed genuinely concerned, or at least curious. There was a vibe he gave off that seemed like he would understand or at least listen.

Heather reprimanded herself. Her mouth had run away with itself. That was all.

Reves was still stuffing the mesh compartment inside the lid of her suitcase with her revealing undergarments. Daddy had a busy weekend ahead of him and she did as well. If he knew of her plans he would drop dead and never be resurrected. She giggled at the idea. Of course, she didn't really wish any ill will on her father, but his kayfab character certainly invoked a string of irony in the prospect.

Suddenly, there was a knock on her bedroom door. "Ya almost through packing, girl?" the Texan accent called from the other side.

Speak of the devil, she thought to herself. She went to her closet and quickly yanked a few more articles of clothing from their hangers. "Yep. Zipping up my bag right now. Be down in a minute!" she called back.

To her chagrin, Mark opened the door to find her stuffing clothes into her luggage and cramming her makeup bag on top. He glared at her. "Hustle. We're leaving in about twenty minutes," he warned her before disappearing.

When she finished, Reves entered the hall with her luggage. At the other end, her two brothers, Marcus and Steven emerged from their respect rooms, suitcases in tow. Reves's face twisted into a glower. "Just what are you spores doing?" she asked through gritted teeth.

"We're going downstairs and leaving to go to WrestleMania, dumbass," Steven told her.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," Reves grumbled.

"Sure as shit, sweetheart," Marcus replied.

Her brothers smirked at her.

"Ugh!" Reves growled, pushing past them and stomping down the stairs.

Downstairs Heather was waiting with Sara in there foyer. "Mom," Reves started. Then thought better of it.

"What, Sweetie?" Sara questioned.

"Nothing," she answered, trying to keep her voice even.

Sensing her sister's anger, Heather mouthed _"What?" _with a concerned expression.

Reves didn't respond, but canted her head towards the staircase as her brothers came down with their suitcases.

Heather's visage changed to one of confliction as she lowered her head. Her father had always let her brothers attend WrestleMania events. It was sort of a tradition for them. Still, Heather was under the wishful assumption that they would get to experience the event for themselves for the first time.

Mark enter through the open front door. "Boys, help me pack up the rest of this," he commanded. The twins obeyed their father as they loaded the suitcases into the truck bed. Sara and the girls had moved out onto the front porch and were watching them.

As they finished up securing everything down, a white BMW pulled up to the house. Out stepped a pair of tall, identical brunettes and they approached the brothers. Hannah and Julie. The two girls were also a set of twins. Hannah was Marcus's girlfriend. Likewise, Julie was dating Steven.

As soon as Reves saw them, she scoffed and threw her arms across her chest. She had little patience for these twits.

Heather turned her head away. Their presence made her feel apprehensive. They were not part of the acolytes whom continually tortured her, but they ran in the same social circle, therefore, she did not particularly care for them either.

"It really sucks this WrestleMania thing is the same weekend as the dance," Julie whined to Steven.

"Yeah, it's not fair," Hannah added.

"I'm sorry, Babe," Steven replied sympathetically. "You know we always go with our dad. I'll make it up to you. I promise." He touched her chin.

"Yeah, we will," Marcus reassured Hannah as he placed his arm around her, drawing her to his side.

Mark furrowed his brows and growled low in his throat. These little brats got on his nerves, big time. Sara punched him in the arm and scowled up at him. Mark cleared his throat. "We need to be getting on the road here," he told them.

"You know, Brandon us taking Jessica Flynn," Hannah announced, not paying any mind to Mark's words.

Heather's chest locked up at the mention of Jessica. She was one of Brittany's lemmings and didn't mind getting her hands dirty if need be.

"I can't believe Reagan didn't have a fit when she asked Brandon and he said yes!" Julie commented.

Reagan Smith. She was Brittany's best friend and Brandon's ex girlfriend. As far as the pecking order of the hierarchy, Reagan was Brittany's right hand women, whereas Jessica was at the bottom of the food chain. Evidence as to why Jessica didn't mind getting entangled in messy situations to claw her way up the ranks.

Heather was almost positive the onslaught she suffered at the hands of Brittany and her acolytes partially served as a type of initiation for Jessica, who previously hadn't been given the time of day.

The memories swimming back, Heather was vaguely aware of Reves taking hold of her hand. She could sense the angry energy surging through her sister as she gripped her hand.

"I'll be waiting in the truck," Reves stated, struggling to keep an even tone in her voice. She pulled Heather along with her as she stomped towards the truck. "Dumbasses," Reves huffed under her breath as she open the door of the truck

"Boys, I'm pulling out in three minutes," Mark warned in austere voice and headed towards the driver's side door. "Nice seeing you girls." He waved shortly before getting in.

"You girls are welcome to stop by for dinner when we get back," Sara nodded curtly before climbing into the truck.

"Mom," Reves stated with surprise.

"Yeah?" Sara answered looking back at her over her shoulder. "I'm coming along too." She smiled as she buckled her seatbelt.

"Oh wow!" Heather said with unusual enthusiasm, "It's just like a family vacation. We haven't done that for quite some time."

The prospect made her a little forlorn. It _had _been a long time since the family had been on an outing together. Daddy's schedule never allowed for many, but she was assured this would be beneficial for everyone, even with her irksome brothers.

Reves labored to keep the façade as her smile faltered. "That's great!" she pushed out through her teeth. Inside, she questioned how this would affect her plans. This was a monkey wrench that could cause it to go either way. Mom was usually pretty flexible, but if she put her foot down on something she could be almost as unyielding as their father. Sometimes perhaps more so!

After the melodramatic send off from their girlfriends, the twins climbed into the truck and the family set out.

Mark and Sara had discussed driving the twenty-three hour road trip to Toronto, as a family bonding experience. They were thankful they had decided against it. Not even ten minutes on the road and the kids were already bickering like toddlers.

It began with Marcus reaching forward and snatching Heather's book from her. "Oh, Romeo. Where are thou, Romeo!" Marcus sing-songed in a high pitched voice, clutching the book to his chest.

"It is the east and Juliet is the sun!" Steven joined in.

Their deep Texan accents blended into a shameful attempt at a British dialect and culminated in a horrid amalgamation as they fell back against the seat in as fit of laughter.

"Give it back to her!" Reves barked as she turned to look back at them.

"Disregarding the fact that you utterly misquoted that entire scene, that is King Lear, I am reading," Heather informed them meekly.

"Who cares? They are all made by that tight-wearin pansy anyway," Steven scoffed.

Heather opened her mouth to respond, but thought better of it. She simply shook her head and cast her eyes forward. She questioned how she could have fallen into relation with such ignorance. She would have liked to attribute it to poor breeding, but that would require her to crucify her own parents. Tragically, she did share the same DNA with the Neanderthals seated behind her.

Reves was still unrelenting. She unbuckled her seatbelt and turned fully in her seat. "Give it to her, assholes," she growled and attempted go grab it, but Marcus, who was sitting directly behind her, tossed it to Steven. Reves leaned close to Steven as he passed it back to Marcus.

"Hey!" their father's voice bellowed as he watched to confrontation from the rearview mirror. "All ya knock yer shit off!" He glared back at them.

"Fine," Marcus grumbled and tossed the book forward. It flew and collided with Heather's face as she turned her head, inciting laughter to erupt from the twins once more. The morning sun caught their hair and it flicked like flames as they reared their heads back.

"Boys," Sara warned firmly. They muttered half-hearted apologies as they tried to stifle their laughter. "Are you alright, Sweetie?" Sara asked as Heather adjusted her glasses.

Heather only nodded in response and looked out the window, willing away the tears that were beginning to form in her eyes.

Reves sat down again and buckled up. "Assholes," she uttered candidly, not concerned if her parents heard.

Sure enough, they did, as Mark proceeded to reproach all of them. "Hey! Now this shit ain't going down like this. Reves Ann, you watch your mouth. And boys, leave your sister alone. I don't want to hear shit until we get to the airport or I swear to God, I'll turn this truck around and you'll all spend the whole weekend in your rooms," Mark warned and they knew it was not just a threat but a promise. Sara gave them a rigid look and nodded her head in agreement. "Now, do we have any misunderstandings?"

"No sir," the four teens grumbled in relative union.

Arms folded over her chest, Reves looked back and glowered at her two brothers.

Keeping his hand low, so that their parents might not see, Steven cast a middle finger at her.

Reves pursed her lips before mouthing, _"You are so dead!"_

Heather witnessed the exchange in a apprehensive manner. She didn't wish to upset her parents and be sentenced to solitary confinement during the biggest weekend of the year.

Thankfully, the airport was in close proximity and the remainder of the ride went off without a hitch.

The Calaway family unloaded their bags, checked in and proceeded through security. Mark had issued another astringent talk to the kids about their bickering and what he expected while they waited to board.

He prayed this wasn't a mistake. He usually allowed the boys to come with him over WrestleMania weekend. It was a father/son thing. Yet since the girls had been traveling with him, he couldn't just leave them out. To top it off, Sara had expressed how much she missed traveling with. Admittedly, he had missed her being there too. And so it became a family affair.

Mark only hoped they could all make it through the weekend with out getting at each other's throats, especially the kids. He also hoped Sara could see how hard he was trying. They still had a long road to mend. Their time together last fall had helped, but now that she was back home the divide was harder to cross. WWE had been close to offering her a full time contract, but Heather's incident and recovery took precedence.

Sara leaned into her husband, speaking low, "She's watching you again. Don't look so grave," She nudged him playfully.

Mark adjusted himself in his seat, getting more comfortable. He looked at his youngest daughter, sitting across from him. She sat cross-legged in the seat, book in her lap, eyes darting back and forth between the pages and her father's somber visage.

"Girl, you don't need to be concerning yourself with what I'm thinkin' 'bout," he said sternly. He watched her eyes drift down to the page as she licked her lips and placed a death grip on her book, trying to look unobtrusive.

Mark chuckled. A few strong words were all he ever needed to keep that one in line. It was both a blessing and a curse, her docile demeanor. He had no idea those little wenches at school had treated her in the manner that they did. He had always taught his kids to be respectful, but to stand up for themselves. But he figured that concept was lost on all of them in one way or the other.

* * *

**Sorry, I feel that the story has not been that exciting so far. This is going to be a long story, so there is a lot to do to kind of set things up and get the ball rolling. These next few chapter may be kind of boring. I hope you will bare with me. **


	11. Chapter 11

**Thank you again to Morrowsong for the review.**

* * *

After a three hour flight, the family arrived in Toronto. This year's WrestleMania was truly shaping up to be epic. It was no secret that every year the company tried to out do themselves, but this year's event was the stuff of dreams with a main event fans could only fathom until now. It was Icon vs. Icon, with the Immortal Hulk Hogan squaring off against the People's Champ, The Rock.

Taker was set into a high profile match himself, as always, when he would have the Nature Boy, Rick Flair in a no disqualification match. Once again, the crowd and everyone watching at home would be on the edge of their seats wondering if the Deadman's WrestleMania streak would continue yet.

As the family was making their way to the baggage claim, they were stopped by a young couple. "Oh, my God! You're Taker! Like for real! Babe, can you believe it?" the girl squealed, grabbing her boyfriend's arm. "Hey, and Sara too. Can we take a picture with you two?" she questioned eagerly. "That is if you don't mind," she blurted afterward.

Mark looked at Sara who smiled and shrugged. Mark never took issue with taking pictures or signing autographs, but he was a very private person outside the ring. He wanted to be sure Sara was comfortable. It came with the territory of course, but he knew how protective Sara was over the kids.

"Hey, Sara," the boyfriend hesitated a moment before asking, "will you sign my Divas magazine?" He then procured a copy from his messenger bag that hung across his body.

"Sure," Sara grinned, though from the glow on her cheeks, it was apparent she was a little embarrassed.

The Calaway children stood at a considerable distance, watching the scene unfold. They weren't quite sure what to make of the spectacle. They were used to their father being stopped by fans all the time. Their mother was somewhat of a different story. None of them even cared to entertain the fact that their own mother appeared in the magazine in alluring bikini shots.

"Sick," Marcus muttered under his breath.

"Bet he carries that around with him, all the time, like a creep," Reves groused.

"Yeah, marks fucking suck," Steven said. "No offense, bro." He glance at his twin.

Reves found herself involuntarily nodding her head in agreement. Then, her eyes shifted as she glared at the twins and they glared back at her. Did she just agree with her brothers? Reves shuddered, then huffed off before it turned into an episode of the Twilight Zone.

"Maybe, he's just bringing it to Fan Axxess," Heather offered with a shrug of her shoulders, but all three of her siblings were already several feet ahead of her.

"Heather, quit lagging, girl. You'll be getting yourself lost," Mark's bass voice called to her over the din in the terminal.

Her father's voice was like a whip against her bare skin. She practically jumped out of her skin as she politely made her way through the throngs of incoming people muttering, "_Excuse me. Pardon me."_

Rushing along, Heather bumped right into the body in front of her. "Oh, my gosh. I'm so sorry!" She snapped her eyes upward quickly and her face ignited lime fire when the person turned towards her. "Mr. Nash," she said as if she had just looked upon a ghostly apparition.

Kevin Nash inclined his head with an expression of surprise. "Oh," He raised an eyebrow at her. "You alright, kid?"

"Y-yes. I'm trying to catch up with my family." Her body made an awkward jerking motion as she proceed to head off, then stopped herself, not wanting to come across as rude.

Kevin's eyes scanned the vicinity, spotting Mark and the rest of the family. Being a seven foot giant did have it's advantages, as he was able to look over everyone else's heads. "Hey, Mark. She's right here," his bass voice called out as he pointed to the petite creature beside him.

Everyone within thirty feet or so stopped to see who was yelling all the way across the airport. Heather's face was a crimson mask as she willed her feet to carry her across the way to rejoin her family at the baggage claim. Shuffling along, her head was bent downwards and her nails were digging into her palms as it seemed people were now parting like the Red Sea.

Once people realize WWE superstars were in the vicinity, there was a round of flashing lights from cameras and both Kevin and Mark were bombarded by fans.

"Motherfucker," Kevin muttered under his breath. He wasn't a stranger to being recognized, he was hard to miss and he had done this for over ten years. He also wasn't a jackass, he knew if you weren't over, you weren't making any money. Still, he regretted calling our to Mark like that. That was a dumbass move, but he was merely thinking of helping the little girl.

Once the crowd had subsided the Calaway family approached the revolving conveyor again. Reves stood impatiently waiting for her suitcase. If not for those damn marks, we'd be out of here by now she told herself. She let out a sigh that was a mixture of relief and continued aggravation as she saw her black suitcase coming towards her.

As she was reaching for it, someone stepped up and grabbed it off the conveyor. "Hey dickhead, that's totally my bag!" she growled. She felt her face flush and damned her words when she turned towards the person. The sight left her body ridged.

"Take it easy, Chica," he spoke in an even voice that was as smooth as whiskey and sent a shiver shooting down her spine. "Yo, so it is," Scott said after reading the luggage tag. He smiled as he handed it to her. She stared into his deep brown eyes before extending her hand to take the suitcase from him.

"Oh, um, my bad…thanks," she mumbled, feeling like a fool. She prayed she didn't look as stupid as she felt.

"No problem," Scott flashed that grin again and she finally broke the gaze.

Reves could feel her anger welling up in her veins. She was caught off guard, again. That meant she wasn't in control, which she absolutely loathed. She was grateful when the seven-footer, Nash, his best friend, came up and delivered a friendly slap on the back to him.

"Sup, Big Kev?" he greeted the taller man with an embrace and that we Reves's cue to turn away from the agonizing encounter.

Her heart was thumping against her ribcage like a kick drum, putting her entire body on edge. After glancing at both men in turn, she left swiftly and joined the rest of her family.

The Calaways' procured a rental car for the weekend and arrived at the hotel around 2 P.M. Mark had elected to get caught up on some much needed sleep before making an appearance at a fan event.

* * *

"Mom, I'm starving!" Steven complained with the till of a neglected child.

"Because it's not like you didn't ear an entire family size bag of Doritos on the plane," Reves groused from behind the latest issue of Metal Edge magazine. She was already in a foul mood. She was not about to endure her gluttonous brothers squawking like baby birds with their mouths open, waiting for their mother to drop in a mound of worms. With a half growl, she put down the magazine and lifted her body from the chair, heading towards the door.

"And where do you think you're going?" Sara inquired firmly.

"Just out," Reves replied with a shrug of her shoulders.

Sara narrowed her eyes at her oldest child. "Hmm, nice try," she said shaking her head.

Reves flung herself onto the nearest piece of furniture, which happened to be the one on which Heather was sitting on, finishing King Lear. "So sick if sitting in these rooms like a prisoner," she grumbled.

"Shut up you heifer," Marcus groused.

"Marcus!" Sara reprimanded.

"Sorry, I couldn't willingly take your girlfriend's title," Reves retorted.

"Now that's enough, all of you!" Sara's voice was like a whip cracking over them. The teens scowled at each other but remained silent. "Your dad should be getting up soon. We'll see what he wants to do," their mother told them. "Until then, I'm sure you'll survive," Sara darted her eyes towards the boys.

* * *

Later when Mark eventually woke, the family made their way to dinner. They arrived and were seated at the table of a casual dinning restaurant. The four teens were dispersed on either side of the table, as their parents took their seats as well.

Heather's eyes drifted around the table. It had been some time since the family had the opportunity to go out together. Even growing up, these scenarios had been rare occurrences. Mark had been on the road for all her life. He was even training before Reves was born. Heather felt a warm coziness swell in her heart, even dispute her ignoramus brothers. These moments were few and far between. She wanted to capture these fleeting moments like lightening in a bottle.

She felt the tears threatening to fall, but she was determined to withhold them. She missed this. She wanted to live as a "normal" family. She wanted her father around all the time. She didn't want her parents to be stopped by fans and then gawked at as if she was just another mark pretending to have some sort of claim or special privilege. She wasn't a fool though. She knew her little fantasy was exactly that. Her father wouldn't stop wrestling, not for a long time. Wrestling was his passion, it was who he was. Heather knew unmistakably that her father loved his family, but he also had a fraternal bond with the boys in the business. It was seemingly something unbreakable. Something that was a given, considering that while in the business, over ninety percent of one's life was spent with your brother on the road. Sometime though, Heather would often question if her father cared more for the business than his family.

Pulling her mind from such thoughts, Heather rebuked herself. Her father was right there, along with her mother and her siblings. Like a still frame in her mind, she would hold onto this moment dearly.

So the family had partaken of their meal as an other normal family. Despite the bickering teens, it harkened back to simpler time in life. A time in which, even though the kids were aware that their father was a famous wrestler, the burdens of fame were unbeknownst to them.

* * *

After dinner, the teenagers were sent back to the hotel. Mark was doing a signing and Sara was accompanying him although she would not be on the panel.

It was no secret, Sara loved each of her children to death, but she was grateful to be out with her husband without the kids. Something they had not done since her stint in WWE.

The kids of course, exhibited no hesitation in voicing their protest. The twins rebutted. Reves growled and huffed. Heather's visage displayed blatant disappointment. Sara had planned to take them out tomorrow while Mark had more press and signing.

Reves was antsy. Her whole body felt like one giant itch needing to be scratched. He hadn't stopped thinking about Scott Hall since their encounter last week. Seeing him so unexpectedly at the airport was like rushing to the edge of a cliff and halting abruptly before taking the plunge.

Her idiot brothers weren't doing anything to improve her mood either. She wanted nothing more than to fly from the room, find Hall and tear his clothes off like a ravenous wolf devouring its prey.

She was exceptionally pissed at her parents. Not for going off to Dad's little signing, just the two of them, but for leaving her here with these three little watch dogs. They would without a doubt blab if she left. She needed to devise a plan to get away from her mother within the next day or two.

In the next instant the phone was ringing. Reves rushed over to pick up the receiver. It was a collect call from Hannah and Julie. Reves comely lips curled into a Cheshire grin. "Oh boys," she held out the receiver to them while she couldn't erase her smile.

"What are you smiling for, freak?" Steven asked as Marcus snatched the receiver from her. They held it between their ears, heads pressed together. They pressed the button to accept the call.

"I…I don't think that's such a good-" Heather was cut off by Marcus.

"Shut up and mind your own business, Geekzilla!" he barked at her.

Heather's face clouded over. Her eyes darkened in response to the insult. "Well, I just…" her meek voice trailed off.

Reves took a seat beside her. "That's the point," she said as she nudged her youngest sibling's arm.

Heather hung her head. She never had any intent or motivation for her siblings to get into strife. No one ever needed her advice. She was the _baby _therefore, she was the runt and the prude whom didn't know how to loosen up. She sighed feebly.

Beside her, Reves chuckled maniacally as she clicked on the television with the remote.

By the time the conversation had come to a close, the twins had been on the phone for over an hour.

Another thirty minutes later, Mark and Sara returned to the room. He appraised the children with a stern seriousness. "Can any of you explain to me why I pay an astronomically expensive cell phone bill but none of you can ever seem to pick up on the damn things?" he asked interrupting a squabble over whether they would be watching Jackass or Behind the Music in the main sitting area. "And would any of you mind telling me why the hell the phone here was ringing busy for over an hour?" Mark's voice rumbled.

The bickering ceased as all four teens turned to face their father – the monster of a man. Heather squirmed, she knew they should not have accepted that call. Reves's cheeks were sore as she tried to keep from smiling. The boys gulped in apprehension, but remained silent.

"Well?" Mark pressed, "Or do you all want to stare at this room for the remainder of the trip?"

Reves's face fell. "Huh-uh. Ya'll better fess up!" she threatened her brothers.

"What the hell were ya doing on the phone that long?" Mark demanded.

"Nothing. Julie and Hannah called to talk," Steven said innocently.

Mark growled and rolled his eyes. Even a thousand miles away, those girls were like a hemorrhoid in his ass.

"Did they call collect?" Sara questioned firmly.

They boys eyes shifted aside, not meeting their parents' eyes.

Mark pursed his lips. His eyes were like fire as he glared daggers through the boys. "What the fuck made you think it was a good idea to accept a collect call all the way from Texas? Let alone, be on the phone for over an hour?" Mark boomed. "Do you have any idea how much the bill is gonna be when we check out?"

"At least it's Canadian money," Marcus offered with a nervous chuckle.

The parents were not even close to being amused. Mark stared at the boys with an agonizing glower that felt as if he was going to set them ablaze, as Sara shook her head in disbelief. "No allowance for a month!" Mark stated punitively.

"Mom!" the boys pleaded.

"Don't look at me. You heard your dad," Sara responded unwavering.

With that they sent all four of them to bed.

"Looks like you won't be taking those hookers on any dates," Reves quipped as she passed them on the way to the room she was sharing with Heather.

Simultaneously, both boys extended both middle fingers towards her.

"Touché," she grinned and blew them a kiss before shutting the door on them.


	12. Chapter 12

The day of the biggest event in sports entertainment had finally arrived. This spectacle, aptly named, WrestleMania was dubbed the Superbowl of wrestling. It was the grandest show of them all. Everyone wanted to be on the card and if you were you knew your career was likely headed in the right direction.

The time was approximately ten in the morning. Hall and Nash were visiting Hogan in his hotel room. Not one of them could believe in mere hours they would be walking through the curtain at gorilla position onto a WrestleMania stage. It had been eight years since either Hall or Nash had made a Mania appearance. Over a decade for Hulk.

The nWo was in a good position. They had taken out the likes of Steve Austin and The Rock in the past few weeks since their debut at No Way Out. Vince was working them like fucking mules, but no surprise there. nWo was over in WWE. From one end it was a bit shocking. On the other, it wasn't in the slightest. There was a reason WCW had beaten WWE in the ratings for so long and (despite what the smarks wanted to say) they were it. The nWo tee shirt was currently the hottest selling shirt both online and at events. If that didn't say something, the men didn't know what would.

Scott was set to go over on Austin that night, with Big Kev in his corner. The years event would culminate in a dream match of Icon vs. Icon, with the Immortal Hulk Hogan squaring off against The Great One, The Rock. Rock was going to get over in the match, but nWo was going to get their retribution when Hall and Nash would make their way to the ring and beat everyone's beloved Rocky to a bloody pulp, before the cameras cut off, solidifying their mark on WWE.

As the three men discussed possible directions and scenarios to take place after WrestleMania, Terry's phone began to ring. "Hello?" he answered. "Oh hey, Vince. What's up?" Hall and Nash were struggling to make out what it was Vince was saying to Terry. He shot a look at Hall and Nash, who returned curious expressions. His ever-sure façade had become clouded with bewilderment. "Ok. Gotcha, Vince. We'll be there man," He said getting off the phone.

"What the fuck was that about?" Scott asked.

"Vince wants us to meet him in his suite at eleven o'clock," Hulk told them.

"Did he say why?" Kevin questioned.

Terry shook his head. "I don't know what's up, but it can't be good brothers."

The other two men nodded in agreement. Vince wasn't one to hold your hand. When the finish was laid out, that was it and you had better fucking deliver. That is why something had to be up. It was no surprise that things could be changed last minute.

At a quarter to eleven, the three icons piled into the rental car and head down the road to meet Vince in Mariotte hotel suite. Being the billionaire, he was and mere hours away from celebrating year another addition of his crowning achievement, Vince spared not expense on his home was from home.

Upon hearing a knock at the door Vince McMahon opened it to greet his employees. "Hello, there men. Come in, won't you?" he said in his gruff, booming boss voice as he shook each of their hands. "Take a seat gentlemen." He gestured to the plush couches in the sitting room.

Hall and Nash sat on either end of a long couch. While Hogan was seated in a contemporary style armchair, Vince made himself comfortable on a love seat across from the three men.

"Anything to drink? Coffee? Water?"

His inquiry was met with responses of "No, thank you," and "I'm good." The men weren't here for refreshments. They wanted to know what the hell this was all about.

"So, here's the deal fellas," Vince cleared his throat. "We think it's best to change the finishes of Mania," He paused for the men's reactions, not that it mattered to him. He was the boss after all and her had final say over every aspect of the product. He could see confusion and curiosity painted on their faces, along with a glint of anger. Just the sort of reaction he was expecting, though he dismissed the glares they were trying to mask.

"What kind of changes are we talkin' about?" Hogan asked.

"Well, a lot of the boys, including Mark, have come to me and they just don't think it's right to have a foreign entity like nWo go over at our flagship Paper Per View."

Hogan narrowed his eyes at Vince. Nash let out and angry sigh and Hall just shook his head. The men were pissed and disappointed. They thought they were really building something that had a myriad of potential, but like anything else, just as swiftly as Vince could build something or someone up, he would tear it down.

"So, what's the new finish?" Nash had struggled to speak slow and even, a feat for a man whose temper could be as gigantic as he was.

"Right. It was decided that Austin should go over his match with Hall. People are behind him. He's built a lot of momentum getting revenge on the nWo. Then, instead of you and Hall coming down to assist Hogan in annihilating Rock, Hogan is going to offer Rock his hand following Rock's victory and he will accept." He directed the last part towards Terry, "Then, you will raise his hand in victory. Hall and Nash, you'll come down." Vince paused as if for drama effect.

The men were silent, but they knew all too well what was coming for them. More importantly, for their faction and the angle they had been working since they came back to this company.

"After bitching at Hulk for the hand shake, you two are going to attack him. Rock jumps back in to help and once you are heading up the ramp after being chased off, the show will close."

They knew this news should not have come to them as shockingly as it felt. They already knew this was Vince and WWE. One wrong step and your push evaporated onto thin air. But what had they done? They had followed all the "rules". They work twice as many days as they where originally signed for. They whole point of this was clear: this wasn't Vince's creation. Therefore, he was not going to give them a real push or let them get over in any real way.

So much for being Vince's boys. Kevin though back to what Mark had said on the day of their return.

"Is everyone in agreement? Anything you want to add or change?" Vince asked half-heartedly.

Truth was, there wasn't much - if anything – that was going to change and the men knew that. He couldn't put them over his loyal homemade stars like Rock and Austin. Even Mark, who had no disparagement against the men on a personal level, didn't want to see them conquering the locker room.

Vince trusted Mark's opinion. He was objective and he had stayed loyal to him for over ten years. While many other's left Vince for big money contracts, Mark stay and cemented his place in WWE history.

"Sounds good, Vince," Terry said begrudgingly.

"Fuck. Whatever," Kevin muttered in a bitter tone. He sighed, thinking better. "Whatever it takes, Vince," he grumbled, fighting to keep his attitude in check.

Scott could not even look at Vince. He wasn't one to ever get too emotional over things, especially work. He knew that's how it was. This business was a shark tank. It was a dog eat dog world - even for the best of friends. That's why he didn't blame Mark for giving his honest opinion. He knew Kev and Hulk felt the same. What pissed him off was how Vince had baited them with promises of "how it was going to be." He was even more pissed that he fell for it. Like falling into the same fucking manhole every time you walked down the street. Despite the fact that you know it's there, yet you fall into it every time. He had cleaned up his act. He was sober and doing great, but did it even make a damn difference?

Instead of responding to Vince's inquiry - because he knew he didn't really give two fucks – Scott stood and headed towards the door.

"Dude, Scott where are you going?" Kevin asked as his friend was reaching for the handle.

Looking back over his shoulder, Scott replied, "You know here to find me," before he opened the door and exited the room.

"Scotty, no. Don't fucking do this, man," Kevin called after him, jumping up.

Terry placed a hand on Kevin's arm. "Let him go, brother. He just needs some space. That's all."

_Fuck that shit_, Kevin thought. He considered Hulk a very close friend, but he didn't understand the bond of brotherhood he shared with his fellow Kliq members, especially Scott.

By the time Kevin had gotten to the door, (without uttering another word to either Hogan or Vince) Scott was nowhere in sight. Nash cursed to the little prick silently for being lightyears quicker than himself. Anyone who was even half aware of the pair knew Kev meant nothing by such a derogatory reference. He just wanted to catch his friend before he did something that may be considered stupid.

Upon making it out of the hotel itself, Kevin spotted him walking across the parking lot, nearing the sidewalk. Knowing he wouldn't reach him from here, Kev jumped in the rental without hesitation.

He slowly rolled up on Scott with the window down. "Come on, brother. Yes, we got fuck. Royally. But don't go down that path."

Scott stopped and looked at his best friend. "You think there are any bars open at this time?" he asked with a blend of sarcasm and pain in his voice.

"Well, there's always the liquor store," Kevin jested half heartedly.

Scott shook his head, staring down at the black asphalt. It glistened a little in the late morning sun. A chill ran through his body. March in Toronto was still balls cold. There were still various snow piles scattered about and gray slush on the road's shoulders. "I just need to take a walk. Clear my head of all this shit," He glance up at Kev.

Kevin wanted to object. Leaving Scott alone with his thoughts was not always the best plan, but his best buddy was a grown ass man. What was he going to do, pick him up and throw his ass in the car? He readily admitted he wasn't above that, but he could feel his friend needed his space.

Kevin let out a despairing sigh. "Alright brother. Don't forget to make it to the area before one o'clock of I don't see you before then," he told Scott before circling back around to pick up Terry who was looking pissed and annoyed right outside the hotel doors.

"Told ya, brother," Terry said as he got into the car that was missing Scott.

Kevin's hands gripped the steering wheel. He wanted to shove his foot up Hogan's ass, but they were already being split apart later tonight, so he swallowed his rage and put the car in gear.

* * *

Scott walked aimlessly for thirty or forty minutes. He wasn't truly journeying anywhere. Really, he was making circles around the same couple of blocks. After he had passed a convenience store three or four times, he went inside.

He stood in front of the beverage cooler. He could see his depressing reflection in the glass. No, he was just fine. He just needed to take the edge off. Contrary to what people thought, he could still enjoy a drink once in a while and be just fine. He grabbed a twelve pack and took it to the register.

After he paid, he carried the beer down the block towards the venue. Vince always had his hotel as close as possible to the arena so he could rush there in the blind of and eye of need be.

He knew Kev would bring his ring gear when he finally came along. He knew he shouldn't dump that responsibility on Kev, but he had to admit he had become too accustomed to his "big" brother looking after him over the years. At least he would be _safe _at the arena, not passing out in the gutter somewhere.

* * *

** Pretty boring. Sorry.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Another shoutout to Morrowsong for the review.**

* * *

"You are not wearing that shirt, and if you do, I don't know you," Reves wrinkled her nose at her sister who was wearing a "Big Evil" shirt with the red devil logo on it.

Frowning, Heather glanced down at her shirt. Her large eyes glossed over, wounded. "What is the issue?" she muttered in bewilderment.

"Only marks actually wear wrestling tees outside of TV. That's the issue," Reves chided.

Heather's eyes bore the expression of a wounded rabbit and Reves felt remorse spreading through her chest, although her sour visage remained unwavering.

"Yeah, but it's Wrestle…I just thought…" she trailed off, twisting the hem of her shirt around her forefinger.

Reves let out a pity filled sigh. "At least don't wear it like such a dweeb." Standing behind Heather, she grabbed a hair tie, bunching up the excess fabric and secured it with band. She tucked the tail of the fabric under the younger girl's shirt and rolled up the sleeves. "That's better," Reves declared.

Heather looked in the mirror and a small gasp escaped her lips. "My stomach is exposed!" she cried as her arms shielded her bare skin.

Reves rolled her eyes. "A little mid-rift never killed anybody."

"Not unless your father is an undertaker," Heather muttered sarcastically.

"Whatever," Reves groused, walking away.

The girls walked into the common area of the family's suite. Upon seeing Heather's shirt, Steven burst out laughing. "Get a loada this!" he howled, whacking Marcus in the arm.

Marcus began cackling like a mad man, "You better line up outside with your sign!"

"What's going on in here?" Sara asked, entering the room. She noticed her youngest daughter frowning as she reached behind her, pulling the shirt loose from the hair tie and straighten the hem, folding her arms over her chest. "There's nothing wrong with your shirt, honey." Sara cut her eyes to the three older teens. "Leave your sister alone."

Heather was still feeling the sting from her siblings. She knew they would only resume their torture later. She turned back towards the girls' room.

"Where you going, girl? It's time to be heading out," Mark's gruff voice asked as he appeared suddenly.

Eyes to the ground, Heather incoherently mumbled out her response.

"Girl, look at me when you talk," Mark commanded with firm patience.

Heather's eyes raised to me her father's gaze. "I would like to change my shirt, quickly," she squeaked.

"Ain't a damn thing wrong with that one. Now c'mon. Everybody load up," he said grabbing his gear off the floor and ushering everyone out.

When they entered the arena, Mark told Sara, "You and the kids can head to catering. I'm going to drop off my gear and I have to check in with Vince."

"Ok," Sara said, a little bewildered.

"See you in a little while," he said, leaving a quick peck on her lips. "Guys, try not to act like a bunch of animals," he warned the kids before turning away.

"I'm starving," Marcus announced.

"Me too, dude," Steven agreed.

"Lord, I hope they have enough food for you two bottomless pits," Reves chimed sarcastically as they began walking towards the cafeteria for catering.

After the family had gotten their food and were seated, Glen waved at them from across the room. He approached them with a smile. "I see you got the whole clan here. Where's Mark?"

"Tying up business with Vince, Sara told him with a shrug.

"Ah," Glen said with a nod. He took a seat at the table with them, chatting up Sara and the boys.

Heather sat silently, hands folded in her lap, smiling apprehensively when she though it was appropriate.

Reves pushed her salad around on the plate. Her elbow was propped on the table supporting her head. She was bored already. She found it funny, her mom was so busy gabbing with Glen, she didn't even scold her for having her elbows on the table. As amusing as that prospect was, she knew she had much more exciting things she could be getting to. "Mom, I'm going to the bathroom," she declared as she stood, not waiting for her mother's permission.

"Come right back," Sara instructed her.

She gave a muffled "Mmhmm," as she departed. She prayed Heather wasn't going to follow her.

Left alone, Heather shifted anxiously in her seat. She wished to tag along with Rev, but she hadn't wanted to say anything. She sufficed to pull out a book. She reached into her bag, instantly turning scarlet when she realized she had accidently pulled out Lolita. She was still using it as reference for her thesis. She had grabbed it by mistake. She swiftly concealed it underneath the table. Her eyes darted around for anyone who may have caught a glimpse of the devious read. It had been disastrous enough that one, Kevin Nash had knowledge of the lecherous tale. He likely thought she was some sort of sicko.

Stuffing the tome of the diabolical Humbert Humbert back into her bag, she retrieved a Christopher Pike novel for a bit of recreational reading. It didn't challenge her too much at all, but it offered some delight never the less.

* * *

Reves was traveling down the hall with a nonchalant swagger until she came to face the room she was searching for. She wasn't sure how she would be received, but it was worth a shot. She was not sure who was on the other side of the door, if anyone. She gave a knock as her heart beat in her rib cage, in sync with her knuckles.

"It's open," she heard a smooth timbre call from the other side.

Reves hesitated a moment. She then expelled a deep breath and cautiously turned the door knob. She peeked her head in. Her eyes scanned the room, but she could only see Scott sitting back on the plush leather couch. She stepped inside, not sure of what to say, so she hid behind the façade of her coy smirk for a few moments. He looked damn sexy lounged there on the couch. She could feel the moisture beginning between her legs as she thought of their last encounter.

Scott's deep brown eyes met her orbs that were like twin pools, rimmed in black. He could see the desire painted in them, no matter the façade she tried to plaster on. Her body looked banging in her tight jeans and well fitted shirt. She was certainly hard to resist when she was standing there like an open invitation, but with all that had happened earlier, he just wasn't in the mood. He just wanted to sit there, finish his beer and forget about the deception from yet another company whom pretended to have his best interest at heart.

"Beat it, kid," he groused, tossing he second empty can in the trash. He wasn't necessarily feeling the buzz, but his nerves were a lot more relaxed than when he first walked into the arena.

The pain flashed in Reves's eyes momentarily. She didn't take kindly to being rejected, though her mask never faltered. Her full lips curled into a devilish grin. "I don't know what your problem is," she voiced coolly, "I kind of don't care, really. But hey, I can give you a hand."

As she spoke, Scott plucked his third can from the plastic holder. He let out a "Ha!" low in his throat.

Reves pursed her lips and her hand clenched into a fist for a moment. She could feel the blood rushing threw her veins. Anger was welling up inside her. She stood, still and silent, talking herself down from slapping him across the face.

She looked down at the beer can in his hand. She plopped down beside him, so close her side was pressed against his. The smile came back to her face as she took the beer can from him.

He surrendered the can in his befuddled state. She just held onto it for a moment. Then she rotated the can a little bit and popped the top, the proverbial _crack_ echoing throughout the room. She lifted it up, giving a solitary _cheers _motion and brought the can to her lips. The amber liquid hit her tongue with a dull burn. She nearly choked on the bitter, yeasty flavor, but she swallowed it down in a huge gulp that made her eyes water. She begrudgingly took a few more menial sips, fighting the urge to gag before handing the can back to Scott. She also met him with a grin and lightly bit her bottom lip.

Scott stared at her for a long second. He knew he should be reprimanding her for underage drinking, but truth be told, he was doing _a lot _worse at her age.

He looked down at the tee shirt stretched across her ample breasts. (Of course, what else was meant by _well fitted_?) He felt his cock come to life when her hand came to rest on his knee. "You don't take no for an answer, do you?" he asked, appraising her body again.

"Never," she replied with a Cheshire grin, running her hand up to the bulge between his legs.

Scott released a groan as he felt himself harden more. He wasn't sure what brought her back for more (of course, he was an outstanding lover) but he was glad it did.

He had to admit, he felt rather lame, like a jabroni virgin. His dick strained against his jeans and they hadn't even kissed.

Bold as she may, she reached for his belt buckle. "We have to be quick about it. I have to get back to the overlords."

That was perfectly fine with him. He felt like he was about to explode all of a sudden as he was thinking about everything they had done during their last interaction. He placed the beer, which he had been holding, on the coffee table and reached for Reves's shirt, pulling it over her head.

Their lips connected for a few moments before they broke away to shed the rest of their clothing. Scott grabbed a condom and rolled it on. Reves laid back on the couch, legs spread, eagerly awaiting him. He could see moisture glistening between her legs, so he positioned himself and sunk deep inside her, releasing a simultaneous groan from both of them.

* * *

Nash and Hogan had finally made it to the arena. Kevin hadn't heard from Scott since they had left Vince's hotel. He hoped Scott had already made it, if not he would be along soon. They were already going to get it from old Vinnie for being late.

Hurrying to McMahon's office, Kevin practically broke down the door as he burst through it, garnering a searing glare from Vince.

"Ah, nice of you to join us, Kevin. Terry," Vince said in a relatively calm voice that still dripped a venomous sarcasm.

Kevin ignored Vince's disposition. "Is Scott here yet?" He demanded, leaning on Vince's desk.

"Yes. He actually made it to work on time. In fact, he's been here a little while, unlike his buddies," the gruff Mr. McMahon voice was coming through now.

Kevin let out a sigh, not bothering to hide his relief. He had been anxious over Scott all afternoon. Despite everything that was going to change tonight, this was one of the best opportunities he and his friends could ask for. The last thing he wanted to hear walking in the door was that Hall had gone AWOL.

Vince wore an agitated expression as he leaned back in his huge office chair. He knew Nash was all about the welfare of his pals, but he was still pissed at both he and Terry for being late. Vince didn't want to be pissed – not this early on in the day. "Alright, go on now." He inclined forward, pointing a threatening finger at them, "But come late the next time, I'll have your asses! Understood?" Vince barked.

Nash resisted the urge to roll his eyes and straightened back to his gargantuan stance. "You got it, Vince," he said in a compliant tone.

"Sure thing, brother," Terry agreed, though Vince's words didn't do anything for his ego.

* * *

Reves combed her fingers though her tousled hair in an attempt to smooth her disheveled tresses. She regarded her reflection in the full-length mirror that was attached to the concrete wall. She wiped away traces of smeared eye-liner with the side of her thumb. The blonde's legs still felt like jelly as a result of the two powerful orgasms she had recently endured.

She turned back towards Scott, who was now fully dressed was well and had returned to consuming beer number three. She didn't have the slightest clue as to what to say, but her offhanded expression never wavered. After another moment, she veered towards the door. "Well, see ya," she shrugged nonchalantly.

As she reached the door, Scott had suddenly appeared beside her, his arm outstretched in front of her body. "Do you plan on making a habit out of this?" he inquired to her. His lips were mere inches from her ear and the warmth of his breath caused her to shudder involuntarily.

Her heart beat quickened as his body brushed her side. "That depends."

"On what?" His gaze bore into her.

She offered a devious grin. "If you remain so easily seduced." Her eyes flashed with an intense lust.

The expression painted on her face caused Scott to go wild all over. Who taught her to carry such a sensual demeanor? She seemed to come by it so naturally and he questioned how she was born with such a disposition. No wonder Mark wanted to suppress that wild streak within her. Maybe the alcohol was finally getting to him, but he couldn't lie, he had the desire to see how far her limits would go. If he pushed her to the edge, would she push back? "Come to my hotel after the show." His timbre was like velvet whiskey shooting down her spine, smooth and fiery all at once. "Or is Daddy Calaway going to lock you back in the dungeon?"

Reves shifted her eyes, staring back at him challengingly. "Are you kidding? Mania after party! He'll be smashed," She snorted. "So, where will you be?"

Scott gave her his hotel name and room number and she went on her way.

He knew it would look odd that he would go straight to the hotel after the show, but what was there to truly celebrate? He bent over backwards for Vince and the rest of the company. He had walked the straight and narrow and all he got was a big "fuck you" in return. He didn't have a problem putting Steve over, but where was their push for once? So, if the Kliq had as much pull as these jabronis claimed, why were they being screwed like this?

No matter, he thought as he depleted the third can. He was going to get hammered and fuck that hot little number until she was begging him to stop.


	14. Chapter 14

Finally have home internet so hopefully more updates can happen, but we'll see because of work. Thank again to Morrowsong, for the review.

* * *

Reves left the room shuddering. She didn't want to admit it, but he left some sort of impression upon her. There was something he was drowning in the alcohol and though she only came to get hers, she couldn't help but take notice of the somber mood that remained unmoved beneath the surface.

As she turned the corner that lead to the corridor that contained her father's dressing room, she spotted her sister's awkward gait running towards her.

"Where did you disappear to?" Heather inquired of her older sister as she grabbed a hold of her wrist with her dainty hands. Her slender fingers were like ice, sending a chill up Reves's spine. "Mom, has Marcus and Steven looking all over the arena for you!" Heather's anxious disposition would lead one to believe she had been missing for days as opposed to an hour or so. "Daddy could be back from his meeting any minute. Where had you gone off to at any rate?"

Reves always found it highly annoying when their sister referred to their father as _Daddy_ like she was a wimpy five-year-old. Why would she want to idolize him like a naïve little girl? To Reves, he may as well have been a sperm donor at times.

"I just needed to get away from those two jackasses, chewing their food like cows, ok. Does it matter?" Reves snapped at the younger girl.

Heather released the gentle grip on her sister's wrist. The proverbial frown etched on her pretty little face was chased by fat tears. "I...I was just asking," she sniffed with her head bowed.

Reves had rebuked herself then. Heather had such a fragile sensitivity; the slightest thing could set her off. Reves thought how it must have been exhausting to be so angelic. However sorry she felt for her sister, she couldn't help releasing an agitated sigh. "Ok look. I'm sorry." She threw an arm around Heather's shoulder. "Let's get back then. Before the _Lord of Darkness _sends his creatures of the night to seize us," she tilled with a dramatic flair.

By the time they had reached the locker room door, Mark had descended upon them like a true ghostly apparition. Well shit. Reves was sure she was in for it now.

"Do I speak a foreign fucking language or are you just that hard head the you have to undermine every single word that I say?" Mark's rumbling voice reverberated off the walls.

Reves opened her mouth, but was surprised to find herself at a loss.

"Your mom was so worried; she sent your bothers and interrupted my meeting with Vince."

At the mention of her brothers, the momentary lapse in her sass returned as she scoffed, garnering a steely glare from her father. "Is it a travesty that I seek a little solace from those two ingrates that I have to suffer as siblings?" She had attempted another melodramatic lamentation through sugarcoated lips and doe eyes. Unfortunately for the eldest Calaway sibling, her stupor dripped with deadly venom. Afterwards, her lips snapped shut as she remembered the alcohol she had consumed previously. She was thankful he was standing a few feet way.

Mark's face twisted into an angry scowl that made Heather quake even though it was nowhere near directed towards her. Reves was pissing him off, but her didn't have the time or the energy to deal with her at the moment. Just as he was going to send her into Sara, the door opened.

Sara's stern expression indicated she was neither all too happy with her daughter's disappearing act. "I don't appreciate being lied to, Reves Ann!" she scolded.

"Now you know what the hell I go through on a damn near daily basis," Mark gruffed.

"Mark, you didn't have to drag them along." The comment had rubbed Sara the wrong way. "And who wants to talk about dealing with the kids day on and day out?"

"Oh, so it's back to the guilt trip, is it?" There was on edge to Mark's voice.

"Told you we were only here out of guilt," Reves grumbled to Heather, who shifted her weight uneasily and averted her eyes.

"Hush!" Reves's parents snapped at her in unison.

"Get in the room," Mark instructed.

The sisters sat down on the couch with their brothers as their parents continued to exchange words.

"You're in for it now," Steven laughed

"Shut up, jackass," Reves growled.

"I don't have time for this right now." Mark snipped, stopping Sara mid-sentence.

The hurt was evident on Sara's face. "Of course, you don't," she mumbled, turning away.

Mark's face washed over with regret from being so short. Mainly, because his youngest was staring at them with those concerned, innocent eyes. He released a grumbling sigh. "Don't think I'm going to let this slide," he focused his gaze on Reves before he turned away to resume his business.

* * *

Kevin and Hogan arrived at the nWo dressing room mere minutes after Reves had left. Scott was lounged on the sofa knocking back the last of the beer. "Hey yo, chicos," Scott half smiled at them lazily.

Kev and Terry took notice of the empty beer cans and exchanged glances. "Everything ok, bro?" Kev asked with a raised eyebrow as he dropped his gear bag on the floor in the corner.

"Well, I got fucked. Once again." He chuckled to himself because he meant quite literally and figuratively. "So why not take the riming with a smile?" he paused, holding his nearly empty can aloft, as his lips twisted into an uncomfortable grin. His glassy eyes reiterated the betrayal he felt.

"Ya know brother, I'm the one being ripped from the stable. So, I don't really get what you're bitching about," Hogan relayed in agitation.

"Oh, but you're Hulk fucking Hogan. You're everyone's hero, Chico," Scott spat, then polished off the last drops of alcohol.

Hulk's eyes blazed as he stared down at the Bad Guy.

"Come on guys, don't fucking fight," Kevin interceded. "This is a shitty outcome for us. Last thing we need to do is be at each other's throats.

Hulk relented, which was something often difficult for him to do. "Kev's right brother. We're here, it's Mania. Let's make the best of this."

"What choice do we have?" Scott inquired in a somber tone.

"Dick couldn't even save me one," Nash gripped as he collected the empty beer cans and deposited them in the trash. He jested at his pal, but in his gut, he worried about the mental state of his friend if alcohol had come onto play. He knew Scott was his own man and a damn stubborn one at that. Kevin Vince and a couple of suits.

* * *

Mark has changed into his ring gear. His match was fifth tonight and he would go over Ric Flair, a man he had a tremendous amount of respect for, in order to maintain his WrestleMania winning streak for the tenth year in a row. Even though the business was a work, he prided himself that he had garnered enough respect both in the locker room and as his character to sustain the honor.

"Good luck, Dad," Heather wished him when it was time for him to head to the gorilla position.

"You know it's a work dummy. He's already slated to win," Reves chided.

"Rev, what do we tell all of you about name calling your sibling?" Sara scolded.

"Let's see. Something like_, if you can't say nuttin nice, don't say nuttin at all,_" Reves responded in the voice of a preschooler and batted her baby blues.

"Girl, don't mock your mother!" Mark point a finger at her with his eyes ablaze. "You're still in hot water, missy."

"Besides, you know that every performance is accompanied by the risk of an accident or serious injury." Now Heather was lecturing her, too.

"Break a leg, Dad!" Steven said, enthusiastically giving a thumbs up.

Marcus turned towards him with a perplexed expression.

"What? It's Mercury's Law. Now that I said it, it won't come true."

Heather couldn't refrain from correcting him. "That's _Murphy's_ Law you are referring to. It's an adage that states: 'Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong'."

"That's moronic," Reves mumbled.

"Look," Mark spoke over them, "don't go giving your mom a hard time, understood?"

"Yes Sir," they muttered nearly in unison.

Despite their little tiff earlier, Sara kissed Mark and wished him good luck. Should couldn't help the envious longing she had growing inside her. She remembered the rush of adrenaline she would get from appearing out there in front of a crowd of thousands of people. She wished she has as least been about to accompany her husband ringside, but Vince offered and Mark didn't bring it up.

It wasn't as if Sara wanted to be a mega wrestling star or the business to give her a boost. During her short stint with WWE, she felt as if she had actually accomplished something. She hated feeling somewhat resentful towards Mark, but she was never really afforded much of an opportunity to be much more than a housewife. She was already caring for four children by the time most her age had enter college. She had set all her ambitions aside in order for Mark to pursue his dream of becoming a professional wrestler.

In turn, he had missed moments and milestones in the kids' lives and left his body broken in the ring every single night to provide for the family. It's was true, she and her children wanted for nothing. Yet, she couldn't help but wonder what the cost was at times.

Sara saw Mark off from the gorilla position, then returned to the locker room to watch the match via television.

During the course of the match, both men had been busted open. Of course, there was a method for everything in this industry, but the alternative to really being busted open didn't make Heather quiver any less. This business and nearly all of its _secrets _were not for the faint of heart. That knowledge still didn't prevent Heather from clapping and smiling like a starry-eyed child when her daddy tombstoned the legendary Nature Boy, and went over with the pin.

Her daughter's innocent and genuine excitement brought a smile to Sara's face.

Mark returned to his locker room after Flair came through the curtain and the two men embraced each other and exchanged congratulations on a job well done. Mark though his dead weight on the couch. As he was getting his baring's, Sara cleaned his cut and the blood from his forehead.

On the TV, Edge was presently battling Booker T. Reves had little interest in the match for she knew the event that succeeded. The thought currently entered her head about whether or not her parents would go out to celebrate afterwards. She was sure they would. WrestleMania was usually always the crowning achievement of any wrestler's year. Would she and Scott be able to pull off this secret rendezvous?

"Oh man! Did you see that?" Steven grabbed his twin, marking out over a kick Booker had delivered to Edge.

Her brother's outburst had sucked Reves from her thoughts. She looked at her sister, whose emerald eyes were surveying the bout in an analytical fashion from behind her black frames. Heather wouldn't admit it – not about wrestling, at least- but she was a professional fangirl, herself.

Reves stared absent mindedly at the screen. This was taking entirely too long. In fact, she rather the whole program be done with so she could get on to more amusing activities. The thoughts made her tingle inside. Kind of like the day in high school she and Erik had snuck off campus and had sex in his car at the park down the road at before first bell. Then, he fingered her right in the middle of the cafeteria during lunch. All while the obliviously dim-witted teachers and staff looked on unaware. After school, he bent her over the kitchen counter at his house. They were zipping up their jeans just as his mom walked through the door.

She enjoyed stuff like that. It was risky. It was dangerous. She liked walking that thin line, and she loved doing the exact opposite of what people told her to do. That is why when she met Scott face to face, she couldn't help but be magnetized by the machismo and charisma of The Bad Guy.

That is not to say she was overtly promiscuous. She didn't go around just letting any and every guy get into her pants. She had truly loved Erik and he dumped her like a sack of trash. So, far be it from her to have a little fun.

Mark sat there another few minutes before grumbling half-hearted, "I've gotta drag my ass to the shower." Rising from the sofa, Mark grabbed his duffle bag containing his clean clothes and headed into the shower stalls.

Mark had been in the shower a few minutes and the promo for the Austin vs. Hall match had finally began. Reves knew her dad would be done before the match concluded and would probably want to leave. No matter, as long as her parents left the door open for her plans.

Mere minutes later, Mark came out dressed in motorcycle boots, dark jeans and a blue gray tee shirt. "You kids ready to go?" he asked, stuffing his dirty gear into his bag.

"But Dad, we haven't even seen any of the action live!" Marcus protested.

"It is getting a little late," Heather chimed in with her meek voice.

"It's not even ten o'clock, grandma!" Steven spat back.

"I'm amazed you can tell time," Reves interjected dripping sarcasm.

"Cut it out, all o'ya!" Mark's bass timbre rumbled. "Your mom and I are gonna go out with friends. You are all going back to the hotel and you can finish watching Mania there. Remember, none of you are in a very favorable position right now.

Heather lowered her head in admonishment. What had she done? She inhaled sharply, on the verge of tears.

Mark looked at Heather with sympathetic eyes.

All of us but sweet, innocent Heather, of course, Reves thought, fighting to mask her annoyance.

* * *

Everyone gathered their things and they headed back to the hotel. Mark used his credit card to purchase a viewing of the WrestleMania program and he and Sara left again.

It would be a little while before Scott would be available as he had to be involved in some things with Hogan's match. She sat there, she pondering how she could get away. Maybe this was too much of a risk. She was positive those two ingrates she had the misfortune of call her brothers would jump all over the chance to rat her out. Folding her arms over her chest, she sunk down into the lumpy sofa and threw her heels up on the coffee table.

Her siblings were so fucking lame. How could they be content with just sitting here and marking out like a band of losers? Even those dipshits back home had been living it up at that lame ass Sadie Hawkins dance the previous night (even though everyone knows it's the after party that counts). Not that she cared, she was passed high school dances.

"Y'all could of stayed home and went to that shitty dance," Reves grumbled.

"I for one, and relieved we were able to dodge that abhorrent social obligation," Heather commented. She sat in a high back chair, hugging her knees, which were drawn to her chest. Her cascading onyx hair draped around her, hiding the rest of her body.

"Dudes don't give a shit about those lame ass dances. We just want to fuck after, so like, we gotta go," Steven shrugged.

Heather gasped. Her face turned scarlet red and she could feel the heat radiating off her cheeks. "That's…reprehensible," she stammered. She need she should be accustomed to such speech from her siblings, but the very prospect of their conversation left her squirming in mortification.

"Says the one who read that Lolita book with the old perv," Reves teased.

Heather's face flared. "I…I told you. Simon forced me to read that for my thesis," she sputtered in defense.

"Forced you? Did he hold a gun to your head?"

"N-no. I-"

"What the hell is Lolita? Is that where Lita's name come from? She fucking hot!" Marcus interrupted her.

"Ugh, will you jackasses just shut up?" Reves barked. This was talking entirely too long and she was growing quite impatient.

* * *

Scott plopped down on the metal folding chair to untie his boots. They had done it. He and Kev were now on opposing side from Hulk. After losing to Rock, Hulk offered a hand shake and raised his hand in victory. At which point, Scott and Kev came down to beat the shit out of him, only to be thrown out of the ring by him and Rock.

Kevin studied him as he removed his ring gear. "You okay man?" Kevin was pissed about this whole scenario, but he felt Scott was taking it a lot harder than he was. "you wanna go out after this?"

Scott let out a sigh. "Nah, I'm just kinda beat. I think I'm gonna head back to the hotel." He sounded more pathetic than he intended.

Kevin appraised his sagging shoulder and somber expression. "Sure you're alright, Scotty?" he asked coolly.

"Yeah. It's been a long fucking day." A miserable one, he wanted to add. Well, not entirely. He did get some pleasure in the form of a feisty, five-foot-six blonde. He hoped he could get a happy ending to this shitty day.

Kev was staring at him with and unconvinced expression. "Should I start worrying now?" he questioned. There was a sense of levity to his voice, but they both knew it ran deeper than that.

"Pfft, this is nothing," Scott painted on a nonchalant attitude.

Nash narrowed his eyes at the smaller man. "Don't lie to me, Hall," he warned.

Scott wiggled his fingers, feigning and appearance of fright. "Please don't hurt me, Nash," he shot back.

Scott placed his hand firmly on his best friend's shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze. "You don't have to worry, man," he assured, giving a half smile. Then he raised up from his chair and headed for the shower.

Bemused, Kevin watched him as he went. He didn't know what to make of his friend's demeanor. Part of him was depressed. He knew that because of how betrayed Scott felt earlier. Yet it's like he had some sort of excuse to be glad. He guessed maybe he was going to hook up with a rat. No pussy ever made him that chipper, though.

Kev could hear the stream of the shower being turned on. Scott having yet to step in, projected his voice of the flowing water, "You know, nothing against Steve or anything, but I think our match left something to be desired."

Scott wanted to change the subject. That was fine. If he learned anything in his ten plus years as Scott's friend, it was that he could keep him on an invisible leash, but he still had to give him plenty of slack. "Think it was because you were both smashed?" The question was legitimate, though Kevin chuckled afterwards.

"Fuck off, hypocrite. I don't know. Steve's neck and his knees and all that…" Scott trailed off.

"So, it was Steve's fault?" Kevin goaded him.

"No man. I just felt like something was missing."

"Like what? You had good spots. Too damn many if you ask me. Don't know how some of this fuckers breath any more without being told to do so."

"I know," Scott replied as Kevin heard the shower hooks scraping along the metal rod. That was his sign that their conversation was over for now.

Kevin took at shower afterwards, then the two men packed up their bags and left. They hadn't seen Hulk since the re-entered the gorilla. Neither one of them felt much like waiting around either. They hopped in the rental and headed off. Kevin was going to drive Scott back to the hotel before hitting the town.

"You sure bout this brother?" Kevin prodded again as they pulled up to the front.

"Yeah man," Scott answered. "I just want to get some rest."

Kevin wasn't fully buying what his friend was selling, but he thought it best not to push the issue. "Well, if you change your mind, call me," he told Scott as he was exiting the vehicle.

* * *

Scott made his was to his room. As he stepped out of the elevator, he could see a figure with ashy hair sitting in front of his door. The sight caused his face to be painted with a goofy smile.

She stood as he approached her. "Well, it's about time. Fuck, you take forever." Her piercing blues were stabbing through him.

"How'd you escape the convent, sister?" he inquired with a smirk.

Her countenance morphed into a devilish grin. "That's not important, is it?" she responded.

He closed the gap between them, leaning into her ear. His warm breath prickled he flesh in the same manner as his raspy timbre when he spoke to her. "I suppose you really are a bad, bad girl, aren't you?" One hand moved to grasp her firm ass. "Maybe I should bend you over my knee and spank you for behaving like such a naughty girl, hmm?"

Reves struggled to maintain her image of indifference as a tiny mewl escaped her throat. Her breath had become heavy and her chest tightened the moment he approached, but she was fighting to keep a clam composure.

Before she had another moment to think, Scott's lips cam over hers with a firm passion. She returned with the dame unrelenting fervor. He pushed he back into the door as his hands roamed her voluptuous body freely. Her arms came around his neck and she beckoned his tongue to play along with hers.

Scott brought his left arm around her slender waist, pulling her supple frame again his rock-hard body, as he pulled out his room key. Having a small degree of difficulty, he unlocked the doo and the stumbled inside, barely breaking away from one another.


	15. Chapter 15

It was early morning and the sun had just begun to poke its luminescent rays into the windows of the structures throughout Toronto. After the previous night's rendezvous, there was hardly a soul willing to greet the new day.

Heather was an exception. She wouldn't state that she made a ritual of rising with the sun, but the solitude while everyone else seemed to be dead to the world, was comforting.

Heather sat up in bed, reading. Reves groaned beside her and pulled the covers over her head. Heather glanced over at her. She had been awfully lethargic as of late. She was the first to go to bed last night. Heather deduced it was the toll of travel. All wrestlers went through it. Of course, they endured much worse due to the battery their bodies sustain day in and day out.

She turned to the clock. She probably didn't have much time before her father would have them packing up for the next town.

Her sister, her father and herself would be heading to the next town, that was. Her mother and brothers would be flying back to Huston today. The brothers have had quite a few truancies, at school and had almost been dismissed from sports teams as a result. (This indeed, did incur the wrath of their father.) Mark was able to get them a pardon for this event, however.

Heather was gracious she didn't have to return to that inferno. She recalled again, the dance that had taken place that past Saturday. She had not attended any such occasion since entering middle school. Yet, she felt she had acquired enough of the high school experience and witnessed enough teen dramas to conclude a night of dismal agony was quite sure to ensue. Presently, she dismissed the thoughts from her mind and returned to her tome.

* * *

Kevin stumbled groggily out of the bathroom after taking a piss. He expelled as rumbling yawn from deep in his throat as he rubbed sleep from his eyes. Fuck, it was too early to be awake, but nature's call and the pounding that had begun on the left side of his temple removed him from his slumber. Maybe he could catch a few more winks before they had to be moving on.

Nash stood over his bed and frowned, as he ran his hand through his tangled blonde mane. He stared down at the figure, splayed across his bed on her stomach. He could have sworn he had sent this broad packing before he fell asleep last night.

"Ha, good pickings, Kev."

Kevin turned to look at Scott in his bed, propped up on his elbow, wearing a shit eating smirk.

"Fuck off, man. Least I got fucked last night, unlike someone who was in bed by midnight like a fucking geezer," Kevin spat before turning back to the unconscious woman.

Scott's mouth stretched into a wolfish grin. If he only knew about the feisty blonde, he had taken on too many surfaces to count; right in that very room before his pal had even stumbled through the door with his rat.

Kevin sighed, a little embarrassed. Man, what had happened last night? She wasn't particularly dog-faced, but damn, he had more pride and self-respect than this.

He leaned down and shook her should gently. "Hey…" Oh, what the fuck was her name? He couldn't remember if she ever told him. Truth be told, he didn't give a damn. "Hey," he repeated, louder.

She jerked and sat up, opening her eyes. She wiped drool from the corner of her mouth as she craned her neck to gaze up at Kevin almost in awe. Her eyes shifted to Scott on the other bed. She grabbed the sheet and shielded her naked chest, as if suddenly overcome by modesty. Scott chuckled at her.

"Sorry to wake you," Kevin said, calling her attention back to him, "but we need to get going soon." Before she could respond, he started tossing her scattered clothes onto the bed.

"Oh. Ok," she replied awkwardly, as she started dressing.

When she was fully clad, she went over to her purse sitting in a table. She pulled out pen and a scrap of paper. She scribbled on the paper, then approached Nash. "Well, thanks," she said, sounding more like she was posing an inquiry. She then offered the slip to Scott. "Maybe, we can meet up next time you're in town?"

She looked awkwardly between the two, then turned on her heels towards the door.

Kevin was making a cut through motion as he shook his head. He formed an O shape with his hands. He gestured, pulling his hand outward indicating a massive object. He was mouthing something with his eyes bugling. Scott could only guess he was trying to inform him something along the lines of, "big pussy" and he attempted to suppress his laughter. "You're a dick," he whispered hoarsely, choking on his words.

When she was gone, Scott looked at his friend. "Hey yo, maybe it's not her fault, Chico," he insinuated. "They call you, Big Sexy, but are you really?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Kevin shot back.

"No, not really." Scott got off the bed and crumbled the piece of paper into the trash. He figured for the foreseeable future, he may not need to go out of his was to pick up chicks. Not that he ever really had to put in that much effort. The seedy parts of each city were rife with rats whom had a knack for sniffing out the talent.

"Well, now that we're awake," Kevin stated begrudgingly, "guess we got time to hit the Waffle House." He wrapped his arm around his buddy's neck, but Scott seemed lost in thought. "Hey, don't let that shit from yesterday kick your ass, bro. Fuck Vince, if that's the way he wants to be." Kevin ruffled his hair like a big brother.

Yesterday's events weren't at the forefront of his thoughts, but one Kev reinnervated them, his blood began to boil. "Yeah, you're right," Scott commented, even though he was seething inside.

* * *

Later, when they had shown up to the arena, Vince called them into his office. They two men wondered what bullshit they were going to have spewed at them now. They hadn't seen much of Hulk since last night. They had only spoken to him briefly on the phone.

Vince stood as they entered. "Hey men, how are you?"

Scott only stared at Vince in silence, trying to hide his scowl.

Kevin glanced at Scott, noting his friend's sordid expression. He turned towards Vince. "Fine, I guess," he shrugged. "What's up, Vince?"

Vince began, "Look, I know you two are upset about last night's changes."

Scott couldn't help but let out a snort at the absurdity.

Vince regarded him sternly. "As I was saying, I know how disappointed you are from losing Terry from the faction, but we needed to go in a different direction with this. Sorry, it is for the best."

Kevin's gaze became steely, as he felt the anger raising up in him. Is it really for the best? Or is it because a bunch of butthurt jabroni's got into your ear? He wanted to ask. Instead, he questioned, "So, what? Is nWo shit canned now?"

Vince's countenance was overcome with an odd sort of expression as he gestured towards the door.

Kevin and Scott turned towards the door in bemusement. Both men's jaws dropped when their eyes fell upon one of their dearest friends in the world. One of their Kliq brothers, Sean Waltman, was standing in the doorway.

"What the hell?" Scott asked incredulously.

"Kid, you little fucker! Why didn't you tell us?" Kevin exclaimed as he embraced his smaller friend in a bone-crushing hug.

After Kev released him, Scott pulled him in. "We've missed you, Chico," Scott told him

"Vince told me not to tell. This is going to be awesome, just like old times," Kid mused with a crooked smile.

* * *

Heather's body jumped involuntarily when her sister entered their father's locker room and dropped and object on the floor with a thunderous bang.

"What was that?" Heather questioned her sister. Her heart was palpitating rapidly from the shock.

Reves plopped down beside her on the couch and dangled a pair of objects that were tied together at the ends, off her fingers. "Here, put these on," Reves instructed as she began unlacing her black combat boots.

"Skates?" Heather murmured, puzzled. She used her thumb to spin one of the wheels as they sat in her lap.

"Yeah. Ever seen a pair?" Reves asked rhetorically.

"I don't think this would be a wise idea," Heather stated wearily.

"Nothing to you is a _wise idea_. How about just, fucking fun?" Reves tutted.

"Where did you procure these? How did you manage?"

"I don't pack three suitcases every run for nothing," Reves shrugged.

Heather held one of the skates in her hands, feeling the weight of it. It had been years since she had been on a pair of skates. She remembered going to the skating rink all the time with Brittany in Fifth Grade. As time went on though, Heather elected that she preferred to stay home and read a book. She never did like huge throngs of people, but she went because it was something her friend loved.

"Heather, hurry up," Reves chided her as she laced her second skate.

Heather set the skates to the side. She murmured softly and picked up her book again, "I don't want to."

Reves reached over and snatched the book from her sister's grasp. "Get those damn skates on now, or I'll flush your shit right down the toilet," she threatened as she held it aloft.

Heather sighed in irritation. Was this a comical jest to everyone? What was the term they used in the locker rooms, a _rib_? She disregarded the instructions. "That would be quite a feat, regarding that the dimensions are completely disproportionate or you may render septic blockage."

"Stop trying to reason yourself out of this," Reves demanded as she got up and glided shakily toward the bathroom with and evil smirk on her lips.

Heather jumped to her feet. She wouldn't really vandalize a book, would she? Words were such a precious commodity. Why would she decimate them?

"Please, Rev. Just give it back," Heather pleaded with tears welling up in her eyes.

Reves huffed sourly and tossed the book on the couch. "It's nothing to cry over, you puss," she grunted.

"You shouldn't use that term. It's derogatory." Heather reprimanded.

Reves only rolled her eyes in response.

"Besides," Heather continued, "It's was taxing enough to be subjected to such vicious harassment at the hands of my peers. Yet, when my own family elects to abuse me with such harsh treatment…" she trailed off, fighting back tears again.

"Oh, stop being melodramatic," Reves waved her hand, dismissing her grievance. Not a moment later she was at her sister's side. "Come on, Heather. We never do anything fun like we used to."

Heather's eyes were down cast. "Everything is different now."

"How?" Reves questioned; her demeanor softening. "We're the same, aren't we? You and me?"

"Of course, we are. But we wouldn't be here if things hadn't turned upside down."

Reves pondered this. It was true. The long-held secret had shaken her to her core, but it didn't alter the relationship she shared with her little sister. She wanted everything to go back to normal, before this revelation that was meant to divide them, before her sister's incident. Heather tried to shoulder a lot of the blame, but it wasn't her fault.

Reves picked up the skates and placed them in her sister's gentle hands. "Please," she begged.

It wasn't like Reves to plead for anything, and Heather felt herself folding. Maybe it wouldn't be so horrible. Maybe it would be fun? Like the summer nights they would go down to the pool in the backyard at midnight, if the impulse struck their fancy. Her skin tinted pink as she recalled occasion or two where Reves stripped away her bathing suit and went skinny dipping. She would never do something so undignified!

"Alright. I shall acquiesce," she squeaked.

Reves simply stared at her, awaiting and explanation.

"That means yes," Heather informed her.

An ear to ear grin spread over Reves's normally scowling countenance. She let out an elated squeal and threw her arms around her sister.

When Heather donned her roller skates, the pair of siblings held hands, making their way into the corridor. They used to assistance of the walls and furniture as leverage.

Heather stood with one hand braced on the cement wall. "Maybe this isn't such a good idea after all?" Heather wondered. She teetered precariously in an attempt to maintain balance.

"Whatever," Reves ignored her. "I'm sure it's like riding a bike." She started off, dragging the younger girl along.

They started off slow, picking up speed as they began to remaster balance and technique. The smooth tile floor allowed them to glide along with ease. Heather realized that Reves had been right, it was like riding a bike, once you got the hang of it again. She cracked a small smile as they entered a set of double doors and momentarily came to a halt.

Heather let out a giggle as she tucked a strand of lovely raven hair behind her ear. "You're right. I miss this," she said nostalgically.

"Shall we race, then?" Reves asked with a Cheshire grin. She bent her knees slightly in a competitive stance.

Heather's smile faded. "Well, I don't think…"

Before she could finish, Reves had blasted off like a rocket, barreling ahead.

Hey!" Heather called after her, propelling herself forward to catch up. Heather rushed, making chase. Her stubby legs proved a challenge to closing the gap, but she raced on. She even managed to hop over a long cable that ran the width of the corridor without busting her bottom.

She was gaining on her older sister, and the grin returned. He long tendrils danced behind her as the air whipped through them.

Breaking into laughter, Heather managed to surpass her sister. She turned her head and looked at Reves, who was wearing a worrisome expression. She was only vaguely aware of her sister calling to her as she turned back and casted her eyes on the figure which she was fast approaching like lightening.

Terror gripped her entire being, rendering her immobilized as her petite body careened into that of none other than the Chairman and owner of WWE, one, Vincent Kennedy McMahon.

"Gahhh!" a guttural scream tore from the throat of the chairman as he crashed flat onto his back with a sickening thud, becoming drenched in the scalding hot coffee he had been carrying.

The impact had forced Heather backwards and she felt herself plummeting to the floor. She braced her body for the brunt when she felt her back connect with an object below her. She inhaled a sharp breath and she realized an instant later that she had not made impact with the solid tile floor. Instead she gazed with amazement, up into the eyes of none other than Kevin Nash. The receptors in her brain finally distinguished his strong muscular arm supporting the middle of her back, mere inches from the floor.

As she stared up at him, she had the peculiar sense that time had stopped – or at least ran in slow motion. It was until he brought her upright that she recognized that she had the front of his shirt gripped within her tiny palms. The crimson hue on her face blatantly displayed her mortification.

As he released her, Heather's knees buckled from under her and she nearly went down for a second time as her hand flew over her mouth at the horror of her action. She was only nebulously conscious of Kevin Nash stabilizing her frame as she stared down at Vince McMahon flat on his back.

Sean Waltman was crumpled against the wall in an uncontrollable fit of laughter. He couldn't believe on the same day he got to join back up with two of his best friends in the world, he also got to witness Vince being laid out on his ass and burned with hot coffee. It was hilarious!

Kevin and Scott were struggling not to crack up as well. Scott leaned over Vince's body. "Yo, boss," he said, stifling his laughter, "you ok?" Scott had offered a hand to Vince who swatted it away as he sprang up shouting all manner of obscenities.

Vince tore off his sports coat, flinging it to the ground. "You assholes think this is funny?" he demanded. Releasing an animalistic growl, he ripped open his now stained, button down, the buttons popping and flying everywhere. The veins in his neck were protruding so profusely, it seemed as if they may literally explode, while his rage turned his face a fire engine red. "I can't believe this shit! What the hell do you think you are doing in **my **building?" Vince shouted in Heather's face.

Heather's entire body was trembling out of pure terror as the chairman berated her viciously. She couldn't meet his stabbing glare, nor did she wish to do so. She had unknowingly gripped onto Nash's forearm, her nails sinking into his skin like a pair of claws as tears welled up in her fright filled eyes.

"Oh, what, you have nothing to say?" Vince demanded.

Terror and shock wouldn't permit Heather to form any words. She only managed a low croak to escape her throat, followed by choking sobs.

"Vince-" Kevin tried to intercede on her behalf.

"Shut up!" Vince snapped, "I don't believe I asked you a god damn thing, Nash!"

Kevin's eyes narrowed at Vince in a piercing scowl. He had all the respect in the world for Vince McMahon, but he'd be damned if anyone was going to talk down to him like a bitch. It took every ounce of strength to hold his piece, especially when he was simply trying to defend the kid - such a timid creature - from being verbally abused by a grown ass man.

Before Kevin could say anything more, Reves appeared,

placing her arms protectively around her younger sister. "Leave her alone! It was an accident." She commanded boldly, "Don't be such a bully!"

"I'm fucking sick of you little brats running amuck back here. Mark _will_ hear about all your bullshit!" Vince threatened in a rage.

He then proceeded to storm down the hall with his proverbial _Mr. McMahon_ strut. "You!" He pointed his finger at an unknown sound technician who happened to be passing at random.

"Y-yes, sir?" he addressed his boss apprehensively.

"Get me some new clothes, if you value your job, you son of a bitch!" Vince barked at the unsuspecting employee.

"Y-yes, Mr. McMahon. R-right away, sir!" the befuddled tech stuttered before scurrying off without the slightest notion as to how he was going to accomplish his boss' demand.

The five people left standing in the hall, glance around at one another in confusion.

"Nice save, big sis. I think old Vinnie Mac might just be afraid of you," Scott gave a crooked smile to Reves. A secret exchange transpired between them as they looked one another in the eye. Her bold and almost fearless sass nearly rendered him at the mercy of a raging boner, in the presence of his bros.

"Yeah, right," Heather muttered bitterly as she tore herself out of Kevin's hold. She scooted herself precariously to one of the black crates that always littered the corridors and hoisted herself up, sitting on the top. Her trembling fingers struggled to undo the laces of her skates. "I'll be sent back to that God forsaken school," she sputtered through her tears. "I told you this would go awry," she spoke to her sister, wishing the three men were not present and gawking at her, but she ignored them. She had finally loosened the first set of laces. Yanking the skate off, she tossed it to the floor with a clamor.

"Well, I didn't tell you to go crashing into the owner of WWE," Reves said coolly, crossing her arms.

"Lest you forget, this was your scheme. But it doesn't make a difference." She let the second skate tumble and clang to the floor as a fresh wave of tears began.

Unsure, Kevin inched a little closer to her. "Hey kid. C'mon don't cry," the monster of a man offered gently.

It was apparent she either didn't hear, or chose not to acknowledge his words. She hopped of the crate and began walking in the opposite direction, back towards Mark's locker room, in only her socked feet.

Kevin rubbed his forearm as he watched her go. He glanced down at the crescent shaped imprints in his flesh. Heather had clawed his skin so deeply out of terror, she nearly drew blood – not that he was fazed by it. He was however, more than a little concerned for the state the young girl was in.

If her had not been so fixed on the ebony haired girl, he would have noticed Reves exchange glances and wink at Scott before she rolled away without another thought.

"Are those new Divas?" Sean inquired. "They are smokin' hot!"

Kevin gave him a sideways glare. "Those are Taker's kids."

"Uh-ah. They used to be butt ugly!" Sean said incredulously.

Scott wanted to reach up and pop Kid in the back of the head, but Kev's hand had already connected with his skull.


	16. Chapter 16

**Thanks again Morrowsong for the review. Yeah, they are coming along, but it's taken a little longer than I thought and wanted in some ways. :\**

* * *

Mark paced back and forth in front of his daughters like a caged animal. He had been silent since entering the door. Both girls pleaded with him mentally to speak. The silence was agonizing to Heather, though she could tell by the hard expression on his face, the manner in which his words would come out. Reves, on the other hand, could only think of how cumbersome this all was and wanted a quick ending.

Mark stopped. His steely gaze fell over each girl in turn. He exhaled sharply before he spoke. "Just what the hell, do you think you were doing?" His voice was low, surprisingly even and calm. Mark's eyes zeroed in on Reves, as he knew she would be the first to speak.

Indeed, the blonde jumped on the defense of both of her sister and herself. "It was an accident. She couldn't stop. But never mind all that. You should have heard the way he berated us!"

"So, I heard," Mark said, taking her plea with a grain of salt. "But despite your thinking, your shenanigans aren't cute. Far from it." His voice was being to escalate. "This isn't a playground. A lot of people are working their asses off to make sure the show goes off without a hitch." He looked at them once more. Heather's head was lowered in shame. Reves was staring daggers though him. "And what is it you were doing? Playing roller derby with the owner and Chairman. My boss!" Mark's fist clenched. He was getting angry and he knew he needed to remain calm. He let out a breath as if trying to release all the negative energy. "I could have been fired thanks to your games!"

Heather gasped, her own guilt working on her. She wanted cry, but she had done so much of that already.

"Yeah right," Reves scoffed.

"What did you say?" Mark demanded "You think this is some kind of comical joke? Obviously, you aren't a bit sorry over your conduct."

"_I_ didn't run into him," Reves said, matter of fact as she glanced at her sister.

"That may be, but it certainly was your brilliant plan, wasn't it?"

"I never planned for her to wreck into him," her words were nonchalant.

"Girl! I'm this close to..." Mark stopped himself despite the fact that steam was practically rolling out of his ears. Truth be told, it was the deposition of his youngest that caused him to think twice about his threat. She was already in tears and all too contrite. Mark was dumbfounded. Clearly, a punishment was in order, yet strangely, the more he though about it, the more sympathy he had. Still, he knew he couldn't let it slide. If he gave them an inch, they would run a mile, particularly Reves. "Ugh!" he grunted. "Don't think you are off the hook, not for a second. I gotta think about what I'm gonna do. I'm going to see if Vince has cooled off enough that you can apologize to him." He started off, then turned, "I think it goes without saying that you are not to step one toe outside this door. If you do, you'll be on the next plane home and you'll never be back. I promise you." Mark's deep timbre resonated off the walls, leaving Heather quaking in her shoes and Reves thoroughly annoyed. Mark left them alone with his threat as their only boundary.

"I sincerely hope he does not exile us," Heather squeaked.

"Exile? What is this, King Arthur's court? Besides, he's not going to do shit." Reves asserted.

"How can you be so certain?" Heather questioned. "This wasn't a couple of colleagues. This was Vince McMahon."

"I don't give a shit if it was President Bush," Reves stated boldly.

Heather gasped; her eyes wide in shock. "Rev, you shouldn't speak like that. Dad could lose his job!"

"I'm sure they've got the cameras rolling already," Reves remarked scathingly.

Fresh tears sprang from her sister's jeweled eyes. "I don't wasn't to go back there," her whisper nearly inaudible.

If her innocently naïve sister were to ever learn of the power and persuasion her tears wielded, certain doom was to befall each and every victim at the mercy of her enchanting essence. Whether she knew it, or whether she chose to conceal the knowledge, she had their father wrapped around her slender, nimble finger, as it were.

Too bad McMahon seemed to be impervious to her precocious charm.

"Do you think I want to see you go back to that Hell hole?" Reves questioned, agitated. "The place that reminds you every day that your life is a lie?"

"It's not a lie…" Heather speech was mumbled and slow.

"How else do you explain it?" Reves demanded

Heather sat with her hands in her lap. Her head dropped and her silence spoke for itself, proving Reves point.

In the next instant, Mark reentered the room. He looked at the girls and he was somewhat at a loss. He could see that Heather was really torn up about the situation, but Vince was still angrier than a hornet on a hot summer day.

Mark let out a long, exasperated sigh. The girls had done wrong; they could have cost him his job. It pissed him off that they could be so careless. Yet, when he looked down at his weeping youngest, his heart seemed to melt a little. This was at times, a source of disagreement between Sara and he, as she felt he spoiled her a little too much.

There was a low rumble in Mark's throat. Look, it's getting too close to show time to take you back to the hotel. I'm still undecided as to what to do with you two. So, stay here for now." He left again, though the sisters were unaware of other items on the agenda.

Ha, if he thought Reves was simply going to _hangout _he was sorely mistaken. It's not like he used threaten words such as _"I mean it," _or _"So help me." _

"I'm gonna go get a Coke. You want?" Reves knew she wouldn't dare leave the room.

"No. I- I think you should just wait for Dad to come back," Heather warned.

"I'm just getting a drink," Reves scoffed.

Heather sat, still and silent, they worrisome expression clouding her pretty face.

Reves shrugged. "Suite yourself." After another instant, she was gone.

Heather said nothing at her passing, though the apprehension was evident on her face. Lately, she had been feeling it was futile to attempt to persuade Reves in a different direction once her mind was set.

Heather grabbed her book, but her mind was too fretful to focus and after a few minutes, she put it away. She released a restless sigh, her head propped on her elbow and her green eyes scanned the room. Her eyes fell on her electronic keyboard. She had happened to bring it along, though they hadn't planned on recording any demos. Perhaps she had an inkling that she would have need of it. She knew the music could help calm her mind. She didn't know why she didn't rely on it more.

She placed the electronic instrument on the coffee table. She sat and after ensuring the settings were correct, she decided to practice a new piece she had recently been learning.

When Heather's fingers danced over the keys it was like a magical symbiosis was taking place. She became one with the music and every note resonated within her. Sometimes she felt as if it was the only thing she could truly control. Certainly, books were a means of great escape, but she was still merely a spectator as the author penned the story they wished to tell.

* * *

Kid was still gushing over the look on McMahon's face as he landed flat on his back. Yeah, that shit was funny as fuck, but truth be told, neither Hall or Nash were paying attention to seventy-five percent of what he was saying. Both men's thoughts were fixated on the those pesky Calaway sisters, yet for grossly unique purposes.

Daresay Scott was bewitched by the blonde's emboldened stance against Vince. Even some of the biggest badasses in the locker room didn't have the balls to challenge Vince in such a manner. She was either fearless or stupid. She a had a reckless streak that was intriguing him more and more.

Despite attempting to focus on other matters, Kevin's mind kept wondering back to that damned kid. Vince had her quaking in her sneakers. She was timid as it were. Then to have someone as imposing as Vince McMahon shouting in her face must have been terrifying for her. While they may not have straight up cried, he had seen grown men turn pale and practically tremble as Vince tore them to shreds. He couldn't stop himself from wondering is she was doing ok after everything. He hoped Mark wasn't too hard on them. She already seemed heart broken.

He replayed the scene in his head. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he recalled the immaculate grin, she wore an instant before she was hit with the horrid realization that she was going to collide with the Chairman. The impact had sent her reeling. Fortunately, he was able to catch her, just inches from the floor. Her large, green eyes contained a look of shock as she gazed up at him.

He didn't know exactly why, but he felt compelled to reassure himself that she was fine. Kevin concocted some bullshit excuse that all this was wearing on him and he need some coffee (with a chuckle, of course).

"I could use some too. I'll go with you," Sean said.

"Nah, man. Stay, I'll get it." Kev replied promptly.

Sean thought that was a little odd. Kev never really went out of his was to do that type of stuff for people, but who was he to argue? "Whatever Kev," he said leaning back in the folding chair. "Hey, don't spill it all over yourself. Watch out for clumsy skaters," Sean cackled.

Damn it, Scott cursed mentally. He was going to seek out the little vixen. That is if Mark didn't have her under lock and key or on the next flight back to Texas. He knew Mark was protective, but she was an adult able to make her own decisions. He wanted to go, but he couldn't just leave Kid without an excuse.

* * *

Kevin hoped it wouldn't look too strange knocking on the door if Mark happened to be around, but he was there after all; he had witnessed Vince being a complete prick towards the girl. As he approached Mark's locker room, he could hear piano music come from the other side of the door. He stopped for moment to listen.

It sounded like the girl was in there rocking out. It must have been a classical piece. He imagined her probably carried the same expression as the night she sang the Bush song in the bar. A small smirk played on his lips as he knocked on the door.

Heather jumped on the other side as the thunderous banging interrupted her. People seemed to have a knack for intrusion and it was beginning to impact her disposition negatively. She huffed as she pulled her hands into her lap. She could always feign that the room was vacant. Yet, she deduced that they had likely heard the music produced by the keyboard.

Opening the door, Heather was struck with a wave a déjà vu. Standing outside the door was the imposing gargantuan figure of Kevin Nash. Hadn't this scene played out mere weeks prior? "H-hello," she muttered, though it came out sounding more of a question.

Kevin glanced at the keyboard on the coffee table. "Sorry if I interrupted you," he said coolly in his bass voice.

She looked at the electronic instrument as he did. Then her sight fell to the floor as her hands clasped in front of her. "Uh…n-no, not at all," Heather whispered.

"That was pretty sweet. Was that Mozart or some shit?"

"It's Camille Saint Saen's '_Aquarium'. _I'm just learning it," she replied.

"She's cool, too," he shrugged, having never heard the name.

Heather blinked her large eyes at him. "You mean _he_, correct?"

"Eh, whatever. That's totally a chick name."

"Well, I suppose not in eighteenth century France," she quipped, adjusting her glasses.

Her emerald eyes raised towards him. An unexpected smile slowly creeped across her becoming face. There was a hint of a giggle and the expression she wore told him that she thought he was a complete stooge.

Somehow, part of him didn't care. At least she was smiling. She deserved to be smiling all the time.

"How are you holding up after your little incident? Was Mark really pissed?" he questioned, remembering why he had sought her out in the first place.

She was taken back a little that her had came out of his way to inquire about her wellbeing. Why was it any concern of his? She was of no significance at all. For reasons unbeknownst to her, her heartbeat picked up pace and she felt her palms grow sweaty. She raised her gaze as her curious eyes studied the brown flecks in his green eyes. It was a trait she observed during their last encounter such as this. Whatever the reason, he exuded genuine concern, something she received from few in this world.

She averted her eyes when she realized he was staring back at her. "I am not sure what will occur as a result," her voice was barely audible and she held back large tears.

Guilt washed over him as he looked down at the bashful creature. She had been wearing a beautiful grin just moments before. Now she was on the verge of weeping all over again.

"I'm sorry. This isn't your ordeal. You need not fret about me, really." A lone tear slid down her cheek. "Thank you for catching me, though. That was completely mortifying." Her face flushed a deep crimson.

"No problem. I almost threw out my back though." Kevin grinned at her in hopes she would perk up.

Initially, she frowned, biting her lip. Just as he was about to tell her it was a joke; she was overcome with the comprehension. Her full lips drew a slight smile as her glassy eyes gleamed from the tears.

She peered up at the gentle giant, bewildered by the undeserved kindness he had shown her.

"I have to get going. Don't worry, everything will be fine. Keep working on the music. See ya, kid," Kevin said before turning way.

His words broke her fixation, bringing a right blush to her soft cheeks. "B-bye," she mumbled after he was already gone.

* * *

The Chairman paced on his office. The majority of his rage had left him. Still, when someone attempted to mortify him, whether maliciously or not, they needed to be dealt with. Vincent Kennedy McMahon was no one's fool. He could not believe Mark's kid would snap back like that. His own children didn't even speak to him like that! (Not in real life.) It enraged him, yet he couldn't deny, the girl had spunk and bigger balls than half his roster.

Then there was the matter of the Kliq boys laughing that asses off at his expense. He would not tolerate that shit. Something had to be done. He wasn't quite sure just what it was, but the cogs were turning in the head of the evil genius.


	17. Chapter 17

_The rays of the autumn Texas sun beat down as relentless as ever as the Calaway sisters made their way to the student parking lot. It was four-thirty in the afternoon and the cars sat sparsely on the blacktop. School had let out over an hour ago. Those who remained where teachers, students involved in extracurricular activities and some other faculty members._

_Heather had just been released from choir practice. There was a big concert coming up in a few weeks after homecoming._

"_You really need to learn to drive," Reves chided. "I'm tired of picking you up."_

"_But they last time I attempted, I almost crashed into the garage and I know Daddy will be furious with me if I incurred any more damage to the house," Heather pleaded_

"_Whatever." Reves rolled her eyes. How was choir? Did you get the solo?" The forlorn expression on her sister's face told Reves all she needed to know. "You can't just stand there with your eyes squeezed she the entire time," Reves scolded the younger girl. "That's why Mrs. Kaminski chooses Samantha for the solo, even though it really should be you. That bitch sounds like a cat that's being drowned."_

"_She should have selected you at one point. You are much more suited to the role than me," Heather disagreed humbly._

"_I do have excellent technique, but she would have never chosen me. She didn't like how bluesy and powerful my voice is. It's really shitty, but it's all based on her preference really."_

"_That seems quite unfair."_

"_Yeah, well-"_

"_My, my, my. Well, aren't you just a sight for sore eyes?" They heard a voice say._

_The sisters looked in the direction of the voice and saw a handsome woman leaning against a rusty, old Camaro, smoking a cigarette. She was wearing sunglasses over her eyes. After one last drag, she threw the butt on the asphalt and stomped it out with foot as she moved closer to the teenagers with an arrogant strut. "Just look at my beautiful Reves Ann. You are so grown up."_

_The sisters stared at each other then looked upon the stranger, puzzled. They had never laid eyes on this woman until this moment. How did she know Reves's name?_

"_And just who the hell are you?" Reves demanded, unabashed._

"_Rev! That's not how you should address an elder," Heather chided her gently._

"_Elder?" the woman shrieked incredulously. "I see mark never taught any of you any manners or respect." Her expression shifted from a smug grin to a full-on sneer._

"_Mark?" Reves asked bewildered._

"_Yes, Mark. Your piece of shit father," the woman growled. Somehow the girls had a strange inkling as to where she was going. Still, their ears were not prepared for what she had uttered following that: "The scumbag who left me for that slut, Sara!"_

_Heather released a gasp, floored that this woman whom they didn't even know would make such a gross accusation about their mother._

_Reves's eyes were fixed upon the stranger in a glare. "What does that have to do with me and how the hell do you know who I am?" Reves questioned as her stomach was coiling into a tight knot._

_The woman grinned wickedly. "Hmmph. He never told you, I reckon. Well, it figures," she said as she casually removed her sunglasses._

_Reve's breath caught in her lungs as her own piercing, icy blues were staring back at her. She was rarely ever at a loss for word, but at this moment, she stood dumbfounded. _

"_You didn't think that twit, Sara come up with an original name like Reves, do you?" The woman asked, smugly._

_Heather reached for Rev's hand, whispering in her sister's ear, "Rev, what is she talking about?"_

_Reves glared at her, yanking her hand away. She still hadn't fitted the all pieces of the puzzle together._

_Heather's mouth hung open in shock and hurt as her eyes welled with tears. What was it she had done?_

_The woman continued, "She even gave her own daughter the name of a trailer trash, stripper," she jeered in Heather's direction._

_Heather was trembling. Who was this woman? Why was she harassing them like this?_

_Reves's stomach was clenched into a ball. She was fighting the truth that was rising up in her, just like the lump in her throat. It made her nauseous as she tried to swallow it down._

_Then the women uttered the words she was battling to deny. "That's right, Reves. I'm your real mother. Not that thieving whore, Sara!"_

_A small cry rang out of Heather's throat as her hand came over her mouth, expelling a fresh wave of tears._

_Reves stood, both hands clenched into fists as she glared at the woman. Her entire body trembled, lips quivering, eyes brimming. Yet she refused to shed a single tear in front of this stranger._

_Looking past the girls, the woman could see two tall figures with ginger hair making their way across the blacktop. Bitterness stirred in her as she turned back to Reves._

"_Lady, you're bat shit crazy," Reves finally uttered, though she knew for a fact the woman wasn't, at least not when it came to this._

"_Really?" the woman's arms were folded over her chest. "Just think about it a little. Your brothers," she spat the word as if it left a horrid taste in her mouth, "were born practically nine months to the day you were. Isn't that right?" she questioned haughtily._

_Reves went to speak, but the revelation dawned on her. She had never put much thought into it, but it was true. She felt as she had the wind knocked from her lungs as her "mother" spoke next._

"_So, while I was in the hospital, giving birth to you, where was Mark? Where was your so-called father?" Her voice was ringing higher and higher. "That piece of shit was in bed, fucking that little homewrecker and knocking her up, too! Then she gave birth to those two red-headed demon spawn."_

_With eyes stinging and vision blurred, Heather grabbed her sister's arm. "She's lying! Rev, that's not true. It can't be!" she cried out, desperately. _

_Ignoring Heather, the women continued to speak. "And as if she didn't have her claws sunk into him far enough, she spat out this little bitch for good measure," she growled as she pointed in Heather's direction. _

_During the course of the conversation, Marcus and Steven had approached from across the parking lot. "Who the fuck is this?" Marcus asked as he and Steven took the woman in._

_For once, Heather was relieved to see her brothers. She was certain they could assist in straightening all of this out. They could help her convince Reves that this odd woman was clearly delusional and everything was the same as it always was._

_Reves, however, was currently repulsed by their sight and the sound of their voices enraged her. She shoved Steven hard in the shoulder and without another glance at any one of them, she sprinted off towards her car._

"_Rev! Wait, please!", Heather called through her tears, as she gave chase after her sister. Her sister. She didn't care what delusions of grandeur that lady possessed._

_Reves was already in the vehicle. Her hands gripped the steering wheels and she willed herself to wait for Heather, though she has absolutely no desire to do so._

_No sooner than Heather shut the door, Reves switched the car into gear and sped off. Heather had yet to even buckle her seat belt. Reves was flying like a bat out of Hell. _

_After a few minutes, Heather attempted to speak, "Rev-"_

"_Don't even. Shut up. Just shut up, please!" Reves snapped at her._

_Heather lowered her head. A tear slid down her cheek. This was devastating news. She wished she could console her sister, but Rev was too infuriated to let her speak. What if she hated her now? Maybe, she should…_

_Minutes later, Reves turned off the main road onto the dirt road that headed home. The car blazed up the trail, a dusty cloud left in its wake. Skidding to a halt, Reves switched off the ignition and stormed up the front porch, bursting through the front door._

_Stomping inside, she found her parents in the living room. "Somehow, I always knew my life was a lie!" she divulged. "So, you were just going to sweep it all under the rug and never tell me, huh?"_

"_What are you on about now, girl?" Mark asked, leaning forward on the couch. He and Sara exchanged apprehensive glances._

_Reves was pacing back and forth like a caged animal. "I'm talking about that bitch who showed up in the parking lot of the school, claiming to be my mother!" She was glowering at both of them._

"_Jodi? Fuck!" Mark muttered incredulously, raking a hand through his auburn hair. He and Sara sat there dumbfounded for a few moments, not uttering a word. _

_During this course, Heather made her way into the house and was hanging back in the doorway, watching sister and her parents. She looked like a frightened rabbit. Sara glanced at her and she jolted to the side, trying to conceal herself._

_Mark's eyes followed Sara's and he addressed his youngest child, "Heather, go on up to your room now. We have something to talk to your sister about." Mark spoke in a calm and collected manner, though there was something of a look of dread in his eyes, coupled with regret etched across his face._

_Scurrying out of sight, Heather felt her mouth go dry. She could hear the blood rushing through her veins as she ascended the stairs. She pondered what their conversation would entail. Surely, that demented woman's claim could not be true? She attempted to will the thought away, but felt the hot tears of dismay sliding down her face, despite her effort._

"_Oh, so now we should talk, should we?" Reves baarked with her hands on her hips. Her glare was still piercing through both of them like daggers._

_Sara wore the same somber expression as Mark. She shifted a little to the right, creating a space between her and Mark. "Come, sit," she said patting the spot on the couch._

_Reves wanted to do nothing of the sort. In fact, that was the last thing she wanted to do at that moment, to take a seat between these two people. The ones who were supposed to love and protect her, but had evidently lied to her, her entire life. Her very being was engulfed in flames of hatred and anger towards them._

_Despite all of that, she felt her heavy booted feet dragging across the expensive wood floor and plopped down between them. She wouldn't look at either of them and when Sara tried to take her hands, she tore them away as if she had been signed by a flame. _

_The rejection was evident and cut Sara like a knife. She had helped Mark raise her since she was an infant. She knew Reves had every right to hate her at the moment, but that didn't lessen the sting._

_Mark stared at Sara over the top of Reves's bent head. He saw her reaction. She was distraught. He, himself had no idea how the respond. He had tried to keep this from his daughter. Was it to protect her, or was it for his own selfish ends?_

_No one spoke for several minutes. Mark and Sara continued to stare at each other in a silent conversation about how they had been wrong. Reves stared at her worn, black boots as every bone in her body seethed._

_Finally, Mark spoke. It was a curious phenomenon to hear his voice to tranquil. "Reves," he paused, not sure how to approach this. "I'm sure you've probably figured this out by now. That woman you met back there; her name is Jodi. She is an ex-girlfriend of mine." Mark paused again. He had almost convinced himself he would never have to utter these words. "And she's your real mother," he said with a sigh._

_Something of a cry tore through Reves as he voiced those words. She knew in her gut they were coming, but nothing could have prepared her for when the affirmation came from his mouth. She raked her fingers through her blonde hair. "How the hell could you keep this from me?" she commanded as she sprang from the sofa. She spun around to look at them, though the very sight of them disgusted her at that moment. "You left my mother for Sara? Why?" Reves cast a loathing glance towards Sara._

_The expression crushed Sara, even though she knew deep down that this was quite a normal reaction._

"_You are both liars and cheaters!" Reves willed her tears not to come, but the emotions were overtaking her body. "She told me you two were busy fucking while I was being born!"_

_Both parents looked up at her in shock. Under normal circumstances, they would have reprimanded her for using such vulgarity, but this was an earth-shattering revelation and emotions were running way too high._

"_You have to understand-" Mark started, calm, and even._

"_Understand what? That-"_

"_Jodi is a psycho," Mark said over her. "She was then and obviously, still is now."_

"_So, you thought you'd just throw me away like a piece of garbage and start a new family with Sara, is that it?" Reves spat. The venom dripped from her voice._

"_No. It's not like that. It's true, our relationship did start as an affair in the beginning," Mark looked at Sara as he spoke. Both of them mortified and ashamed. "Right when I was going to break it off with Jodi, she told me she was pregnant. And don't think she was so faithful and innocent, either. Still, I knew there was a large possibility that you were mine. I told Jodi I would be there to support and help take care of you, but I wanted to be with Sara."_

_Reves was listening intently, though nothing was quelling her fury._

"_Even though I had moved on, she insisted we were still a couple and once the baby came, we'd be a happy family. But she never even told me when she went into labor." Mark stopped. He was not an overly emotional man, but he could feel the lump threatening to rise up in his throat. "When she gave birth to you, they found drugs in her system. Yours too. The state took you into custody while you were in the NICU and it was days before I even knew Jodi had given birth. I ordered a paternity test. After weeks, when the results came back that you were in fact mine, we took you once you were well enough to leave the hospital and Sara and I raised you as a family."_

_Sara was in tears by this time. "I'm so sorry you had to find out like this. We never intended to hurt you or lie. We just wanted to protect you. And you have to believe me when I say, I never saw you as different. I love you with every fiber of my being, just like your brothers and your sister," Sara told her. _

_Reves felt faint. This whole conversation was completely surreal. Her stomach tightened again and she could hear her heartbeat in her ears. Sara could tell her until she was blue in the face, that she loved Reves the same. It was true, she was fair amongst all the children and she never treated Reves cruel. Yet somehow, Reves had always known she was not like her siblings. Reves was very intuitive and she could see that the thread that connected Sara and her other three children didn't exist for her._

_Not knowing how to react, Reves blurted the first words that came to her mind. "You're sorry you can't go on living your lie. Well, I'm sorry I ruined your perfect little family!" She cried before turning on her heels and sprinting from the room. Upstairs, she threw herself on her bed and cried until she was wholly spent and finally fell asleep._

* * *

Reves stared up at the ceiling in the dark. Her chest raised and fell with some degree of difficulty due to Scott's heavy arm draped across her as he slept. She didn't know why that memory came to mind, but it played clearly in her mind's eye like a movie. She hadn't seen or heard from Jodi since that day and Mark no longer had any information on how to contact her.

Reves gripped Scott's muscular forearm as she heaved it from across her chest. His arm dropped heavily onto the mattress, causing him to stir a little in his sleep.

Getting up from the bed, Reves crept over to the wide window. Pulling the blinds open, she stared down at the streets below. Lamp lights lined the sidewalks. Neon lights were affixed to various buildings. A few cars could still be seen traveling the roadways despite the late hour. She wasn't sure what that hour was, exactly. Standing there, a shiver ran over her and she hugged her bare body, watching vehicles pass to an unknown destination.

"You're crying," the husky voice spoke to her through the dark.

She hadn't noticed it until she felt the tears streaking down her porcelain face. Nor had she realized he had awoken until his words came to her. She focused on her blurred reflection in the glass. Scott's face came into view within it and she turned towards him.

She loathed crying. She didn't want to be seen as weak and blubbery. All the same, she stood in front of him, tears flowing not saying a word.

Scott had no idea why the girl was crying. He had never seen her in such a vulnerable state. He could very well have asked her what was the matter, but he knew he would only be met with some deflective, snarky remark. Therefore, remaining silent himself, he stepped towards her, pulling her against him. She still didn't speak. Instead, her lips came crashing against his in desperation.


	18. Chapter 18

**Thank you once again, Morrowsong for the review. And also, thank you, HeroforWriter for your honest review. **

* * *

By what could only be deemed an act of divine intervention, the Calaway sisters were authorized to stay on board; providing the condition that Vince McMahon never so much as lay on eye them again. Quite an impossible feat, but the girls sufficed that they had dodged the wrath of the dreadful Mr. McMahon by the skin of their teeth.

* * *

Entering catering, Scott's eyes were caught by the blonde staring in his direction. She never did tell him what the issue was from the previous night, but he could tell it was deep seeded. Yet, sitting here in from of everyone she elected to put on the guise of a badass bitch.

Remembering last night, Reves was mortified. She would never be able to live down the fact that she was crying in front of him. She hated crying as it were, but now she looked like a weak bitch.

Reves was barely aware of her father speaking until he broke her from her thoughts. "Girl, did ya hear me?" Mark demanded.

"What?" she snapped back.

"Don't even think about starting that shit with me," Mark warned.

"Sorry," she said, plainly.

"I said, I am going to go out with Glen tonight."

"Okay, sure," Reves answered disinterested.

"Okay, sure?" Mark questioned. "Where's the argument about how I'm always abandoning you? You got something up your sleeve?

"I'm not wearing sleeves," Reves retorted as she held up her bare arms and flicked her wrists.

"Don't be a smartass," Mark reprimanded.

"She does make a valid point," Glen chuckled as he sat at the table with them.

Mark glared at his friend. "Don't encourage her."

"Why thank you, Glen," Reves flashed her father a smirk.

"Mr. Jacobs," Heather gently corrected her in an inaudible murmur.

Reves, who had developed an acute sense of hear throughout the years of communicating with her mousy sister, simply cast as frown in her direction.

"Well, finish up," Mark instructed. "I have to meet with a rookie who's jobbing for me tonight."

"So how is that different from any other night?" Reves question with only vague interest. Her father gave her a deadpan stare. "What? It was a compliment." She smiled innocently.

"Let's go," he said, getting up from the table. "I'll see you, man," he told Glen.

Glen nodded. "Later," he replied as Mark and the girls walked off.

In order to exit the catering area, they had to venture passed the table where the Kliq boys were seated. Heather had stolen a glance at them and when her gaze connected with Nash's, her heart leaped through her chest and she quickly tore her eyes away. She immediately hastened away, crashing into the back of Reves.

Her sister promptly turned and shouted, "Watch where you're going, will ya?" causing half of everyone in the vicinity to look up at them.

Heather lowered her head in mortification. By now, everyone on the roster has heard of her run in with Mr. McMahon. She was certain they were probably whispering about what a klutz she was and fought back her tears.

"Do you always have to cause a damn scene?" Mark growled as he gripped Reves's arm gingerly and escorted her from the room as everyone went back to their own concerns.

"What? _She_ ran into_ me_," Reves argued.

"I didn't mean to," Heather demurred.

"Reves knows that. She just likes to be difficult," Mark told her as Reves rolled her eyes behind his back as they made their way back to Mark's locker room.

* * *

The program had gone off without a hitch and several of the Superstars and Divas were heading out to the bars and clubs to unwind.

The Calaway sisters were taken promptly to the hotel so that Mark may enjoy some time with his buddies. Reves was impatient for him to leave, although she didn't know why. She was sure Scott was going out, just like everyone else on the fucking roster.

Reves glanced at Heather as she settled onto the bed with her book. It was a typical sight, but she was annoyed with her sister's complacency and wanted to chuck her book off the balcony.

Reves hopped on the bed beside her. "Don't you ever want to do anything with your life?"

"What do you mean? I've been to more cities and countries than people twice my age would ever dream to go. I'm going to be a musician and a world-famous composer someday," Heather returned.

Reves growled in agitation. "Do your really want to spend the best years of your life sitting in hotel rooms, reading books?" she pressed as she snatched the book from her sister.

"You know, your deportment is really becoming calculable," Heather sighed, crossing her arms.

"But you still can't stop me," Reves flashed a grin as she stood, jumping on the bed, waving the book at her sister's face.

"I'm not about to indulge you in these juvenile games," Heather told her flatly.

Reves stopped her bouncing and threw herself down on the bed. "You aren't still butthurt because you ran into old Vinnie Mac, are you?

"I am still a tad miffed, yes," Heather admitted.

"You're such a pus," Reves spat, tossing her book back at her.

Heather's face ignited with a crimson glow. "I've told you not to use such expletives. They are horrendous and utterly vulgar," Heather chided her.

"Whatever," Reves was done with this conversation. She was bored and in need of entertainment. "Well, you can rot in this prison cell. I'm going to find some fun." Her hand came off her forehead in a salute before she turned away.

"Rev. Rev don't leave!" Heather called after her though she knew it was futile. Reves was too stubborn for her own good.

Heather ran a hand though her silky tendrils and sighed heavily anxiety mounting on her heart. She was certainly concerned for her sister, but she did not have the energy or desire to go galivanting after her.

* * *

Kevin, Scott and Sean had found a local strip club to occupy their time. The drink was fine and the bitches were hot enough, but Scott couldn't help pulling his thoughts back to the feisty blonde. He had been too preoccupied with her as of late. He knew she was probably even waiting up for him at that moment. Still, there was nothing wrong with spending time with his boys.

Not surprisingly, they were recognized by a few of the dancers. The girls flirted a little and there was talk of taking them back to the hotel.

At the moment, Kevin and Scott were in the men's room taking a piss break. "So, what do you think, you gonna take one of them home?" Kev asked as the waited in line.

Scott thought about it for a moment. That redhead was pretty hot, but his body went on edge when the image of the brazen beauty with the ashy hair entered his mind. "I don't think so," he replied.

Kevin studied his best friend. "What's with you, Hall?" he asked as they approached a pair of urinals. "I swear, you haven't nailed a broad in weeks. Not that it really concerns me, when you get to bust your nut," he added.

"Thanks for your concern," Scott said caustically. "For your information, _Big Nosey_, I've been getting hotter pus in the last few weeks than you have in the last year." Not surprisingly, Scott had been drinking and it was making his lips a little too loose.

Kevin laughed at him. "Yeah? Who have you been fucking? Pat Patterson?" he asked, finishing up.

"Fuck off," Scott retorted. He knew he probably shouldn't spill, but Kev was pissing him off, so he needed to best him to shut him up. "You really wanna know?" He asked, a smirk spreading across his face. He didn't wait for Kev to answer. "It's Mark's daughter." Scott gave an amused chuckle. "Yep, that sexy ass blonde. And damn, can she suck c-"

Before Scott could even finish zipping his pants, Kevin grabbed him, slamming his back against the brick wall with excessive force. His forearm was pressed against Hall's throat. "You idiot! Mark's kid? Do you have any idea what the fuck he would do to you if he found out?" Kevin growled through gritted teeth.

Kevin released Scott and he spoke. "Like I should give a fuck. She's old enough to do what she wants. Mark can suck it," Scott groused. He has certainly a little too buzzed.

"Just stay the fuck away from her. Nothing good can come from messing around with a chick like her. Besides, she is certified crazy, anyway," Kevin tried to talk his friend down.

Kevin was his best friend, but that last statement just rubbed Scott the wrong way. "Yeah, what the hell do you know anyway?" Scott snapped before storming away.

Kevin followed him out to the dimly lit club. Lights flashed in tune to the blaring music. Scott had been quick to depart. Kevin couldn't find him and it looked like Kid had already split, as well. He cursed as he payed the tab, ready to head out. His argument with Scott was putting a real damper on his mood.

"Hey, big guy," he heard behind him as some tapped on his shoulder. He turned and looked down at the brunette dancer known as Jazel. She had changed from her stage attire (or lack thereof) and was wearing a skin tight tee shirt and pair of low-cut jeans. "We still gonna have some fun?" she asked with a coy grin.

Kevin looked her up and down shamelessly. Yeah, this babe was smoking hot. He may as well get him some for all his trouble. Turning on the charm, Big Sexy smiled down at her with his seductive aura. "Of course, sweetheart," his bass voice ran over her like hot ice as he draped his arm around her shoulder and the left they seedy club.

* * *

Once again, Reves was waiting outside Scott's room as he approached with a black plastic bag filled with beer. "What are you doing here?" he asked in agitation. He didn't mean to be that way with her, but he was still fuming from his spat with Kev.

"What do you think?" She said nonchalantly, though her eyes never betrayed the sting in his biting tone. She wasn't sure what brought on this change in his attitude towards her. Just last week he had held her as she cried, not questioning, simply being there. She loathed feeling weak and vulnerable. Moreover, she hated exposing those emotions and here he was looking at her with such disdain. "What's up your ass?" she asked biting back, keeping up her airs.

"I don't know. You are my friend's daughter." Scott said, guiltily.

"Does it really matter? Does it?" She asked with a smirk. "I mean, what's done is done. What are you going to do? Snitch on me?" She ran a slender finger down his muscular chest. Reves leaned forward and whispered in his ear, "I can keep a secret. Can you?"

Scott felt his erection involuntarily grow. Mother fucker, did she have to be so incredibly hot? This was not a good decision by and means. Scott had enough brains to know he should have sent her packing and nipped this in the bud once and for all, but his desire for her outweighed any logical thoughts at the moment. "On one condition then…"

"And what would that be?" Reves's smooth lips twisted into a seductive grin.

"Tell me what had you so upset the other night."

Reves was taken back. Why the hell did he care? Her heartbeat quickened as she inhaled deeply. She maintained her calm demeanor and countered with her own request. "Spot me one of those and I'll spill my guts," she replied as she pointed to the black, plastic bag which she knew contained a fair amount of alcoholic beverages.

"Alright, Chica. Deal," Scott groused as he pulled out his key card to the to the room.

* * *

Heather couldn't find sleep. It was extremely late and Reves had yet to return from where ever she had wondered off to. She was sitting in bed, the low murmur of the television provided her with company. She was growing more concerned for Reves as the days passed. She had always had a rebellious streak, but she seemed to be acting even more erratic as of late.

Heather jumped as her cell phone suddenly started to ring. She recognized Rev's number and hit the button to answer. "Hello?" she whispered.

"Hey! Is Dad back yet?" Reves whispered hoarsely, though it more so resembled screaming. Her speech sounded suspiciously odd to Heather, almost slurred.

"Yes, but he is incapacitated," Heather answered.

Reves let out an uncontrollable giggle. "Come let me in."

Heather left the portion of the room she shared with her sister. She glanced at her snoring father as she tiptoed passed. He appeared as if he were dead to the world. Not long prior, Glen had dragged his dead weight to the room and deposited him haphazardly onto the bed with a great thump. Never the less, she prayed silently that he would not awaken

Heather slowly opened the door, mindful of the light from the hall that was pouring into her father's pitch-black room. Sure enough, there was Reves, swaying back and forth, holding onto the door frame for support. Heather decided it was best to get to the opposite room before chiding her sister for her poor actions.

Reves was snickering as they passed Mark's sleeping figure on the way to the adjacent room, earning her a shush from Heather.

Heather turned and witnessed Reves as she stumbled into the room, crashing into a nearby table and tumbling over a lamp.

"Whoopsies," Reves belted with laughter.

Heather took in her disheveled appearance and was utterly stunned; the bloodshot eyes, garbled speech and skewed equilibrium. The stench of alcohol was a dead ringer.

"Y-you're inebriated," Heather revealed incredulously.

"What's in-ineee-ineverbrated?" Reves slurred, then cackled from the tongue twister she had made of the word. She fell down on the bed. It creaked under her impact.

"DRUNK!" Heather shouted, throwing her hands in the air. The word escaped her mouth before she thought better of it. Lowering her voice, she continued, "You're drunk. Are you completely mad, behaving in such a manner? Where did you go?" Heather was in a state of shock. Her sister was defiant, but never before had she exhibited such reckless behavior.

"I was with a friend and they had some drinks, yes," Reves replied in a boastful manner. A Cheshire grin curled her lips.

"I can't believe you would do that!" the younger girl exclaimed. "Do you realize how irresponsible that is? Not to mention, it's illegal!"

"Don't be such a crotchety old prude. Reves mused. She tried to sit up, but her head was spinning, so she fell back down.

"I am not as you claim, a 'crotchety old prude.' Do you know what Dad will do if he gains any knowledge of your escapades?"

Shaking her head, Heather questioned why she was expending energy debating with her intoxicated sister. There was plenty of time to discuss the night's affairs in the morning. At the present time, her sister needed rest.

Bending down, Heather unlaced her sister's black leather boots and pulled them off. She tossed them to the floor and lifted her sister's legs onto the bed. Shifting the prone body was difficulty, she managed to bring her sister's head to rest on the pillow. Heather held her breath, as her face was mere inches from her sister's.

Suddenly Reves threw her arms around Heather's neck with a grip like a vice. "I love you, baby sister," she gushed and kissed the younger girl's cheek.

"The feeling is mutual," Heather stated as she attempted to free herself from her sister's grasp. "But right now, you need rest." She has successfully broken away and grabbed a throw blanket that was laying atop a suitcase. "Goodnight, Rev," she said with a sigh as she covered her sister.

Heather shut out the lights and switched off the television. Apprehension was buzzing in her skull as she laid herself down beside a now slumbering Reves. She feared that her sister had started

down a dangerous path and Heather wasn't sure what to do. Just who was this friend her sister spoke of?


	19. Chapter 19

In the morning Heather could hear knocking at the door. Mark was still out cold, one arm and his feet hanging over the edges of the bed. Cautiously, Heather answered the door in a baghy tee shirt and a pair of sweats. "Mr. Jacobs," Heather murmured in surprise. "Good morning," she added meekly, crossing her arms over her chest self-consciously.

"How's Mark?" he asked.

Heather opened the door wider and gestured to the sleeping giant that was her father.

Glen sauntered into the room and shook Mark. "Mark, wake up, man," Glen said loudly.

Snapping up, Mark swung, nearly connecting with Glen's jaw. When he recognized his friend, he ran a hand through his auburn hair. "Fuck," he groused. A sharp pounding in his temple had already began. He hadn't gotten that fucked up in a long time and truth be told, he was somewhat embarrassed that his youngest was standing there staring at him. "What time is it?" he asked Glen.

"After eleven," Glen answered. "I saw you hadn't left yet, so I came to make sure everything was ok."

"Shit," Mark grumbled and sat up. "Heather, tell your sister we are going to be walking out of this room in twenty minutes. No exception!" he directed his daughter.

"Yes sir," Heather replied timidly and quickly left the room. Her brain immediately slipped into panic mode. How on Earth was she supposed to conceal her sister's ailment from their father? She acknowledged that it wasn't her concern and her sister would bring about whatever punishment of her own accord. However, she felt compelled to help her sister in conundrum as her actions held bearing on Heather as well.

She rushed to her sister's bedside. "Reves! Get up!" she cried out with urgency as she shook her in the same manner which Glen had awoken their father.

Without opening her eyes, Reves pushed her sister off of her. "Lemme alone," she mumbled groggily.

"Rev, come on. We have to leave in less than twenty minutes," Heather pleaded, placing a hand on her arm.

"Fuck off," Reves groused, turning over.

Heather stood there in mental turmoil. She needed to get Reves up and moving. Otherwise, when Mark came in, it would not be pleasant. Just then a scheme invaded her and she would daresay it was far from intelligent. She ran to the bathroom and filled a plastic sup with cold water from the faucet.

Gripping the cup, she stood over her sister. She hesitated to execute her design as she was well aware of the explosion that would ensue due to her actions. Nevertheless, she was running out of time. Her heart was pounding like a drum against her rib cage. She bit her lip and inhaled sharply. She held her breath as she poured the cold water over her slumbering sister.

With a jolt, Reves sat straight up in bed sputtering and coughing. "What the hell! What the fuck is wrong with you?" Reves shrieked, as she wiped away excess water from her face. Her already smeared make-up was streaking down her enraged face.

Heather backed away slowly, still gripping the now empty cup. She stared at the fury her sister emitted with wide eyes. "I-I'm s-ssorry. I had to wake you up. We're leaving," Heather told her defensively.

"I'm. Going. To. Kill. You," Reves growled, ignoring the pounding that was starting to pulse in her cranium. She was beginning to feel as if she had been bludgeoned by a sledgehammer. She leapt off the bed as a wave of dizziness swept over her and left her with debilitating nausea. Reves braced herself on the night stand, then ran to the bathroom where she vomited out her insides.

Heather was walking towards the bathroom when she heard her father making his was towards their room. She shut the door to the bathroom just as Mark burst into the room.

"What the hell is going on in here?" he roared.

"I'm sorry, Daddy. I think Rev consumed something bad last night," Heather was putting all her might into sounding as normal as possible.

Mark glared at his youngest child through narrowed eyes. She was hiding something more. Her face said it but he was in too much agony to deal with it at the moment. He closed his eyes for a moment before informing her that they'd be checking out in ten minutes. Then he left.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Heather grabbed the doorknob to the bathroom with a trembling hand. She was certain that Reves was going to be exposed at that moment. They were far from clear.

When she entered the bathroom, Reves was rinsing her face with cold water. "You marginally escaped Dad's wrath," she informed her sister, "Fortunately for you, I'm not sure whether or not your condition supersedes his. You know your poor decisions are really going to cost you one day," she said as she gathered her sister's hair loosely into a hair tie.

"Just don't. Leave my hair alone! It makes my head hurt even more," Reves snapped, pulling her abundant hair free and letting it fall around her.

"Of course," Heather squeaked, blinking back tears. She was simply trying to aid her ailing sister. Heather left the bathroom momentarily and returned with her sister's toothbrush and the toothpaste. "Here, we have to go very soon," she whispered, giving her the items.

Her sister didn't look at her, but Reves could tell by the glassy look in her eyes and the edge in her voice that she had cut her sister. "I'm sorry," Reves told her, taking the items she offered. "Thank you," Reves attempted to speak gently.

Heather only nodded her head, not meeting her sister's gaze. She left the room again to be certain everything was stowed away and they were ready to depart.

Reves emerged from the bathroom and crammed the toothbrush and toothpaste into her bag. She pulled out a black hoodie and slipped it over her head, pulling up the hood to help hide her face.

"I think it's a little warm for that attire," Heather commented.

"I don't give a shit," Reves retorted, glaring at her sister before she slipped on her sunglasses.

Heather merely sighed and pulled up the handle on her rolling suitcase.

"Hey man, I don't have anyone to ride with and you don't look to be in any damn condition to be operating a vehicle. Do you want me to drive?" Glen asked Mark.

"Yeah, sure man. That'd be great actually," Mark replied. He glanced at the clock and said, "We better get going.

As the four of them made their way down to the rental car, they passed Hall and Nash. They were leaning against their rental Cadillac as they waited near the front entrance. Scott and Kev were waiting for Kid to finish kicking the broad out of his room and check out.

Kevin grunted. He was getting impatient. Despite of the fact that he was the only one who would ever fucking drive, he always got blamed when they were late; not that her really gave a damn.

The Outsiders greeted the so called _'Brothers of Destruction' _as they passed. The Calaway sisters were in tow, with the petite raven-haired girl supporting her obviously hung-over sister. What little that could be seen of her face was pasty and sickly in appearance.

"You got her drunk last night, didn't you?" Kevin asked in an accusing tone, narrowing his eyes at Scott.

"No," Scott replied defensively. "I simply didn't stop her." Scott watched her, feeling guilty. Poor thing. He would look after her; take care of her, if he could…

Nash had much to say to that, but Kid was approaching from the hotel now. "Fuck, Kid. Took you long enough," he griped, looking at his watch.

"Whatever man. You've taken shits longer than that," Kid replied, shrugging him off.

"You know he's right," Scott smirked, looking at Kev.

Nash grabbed both the smaller men in a friendly headlock, and dragged them to the door of the car. "Just get in. We're already late, children."

Reves leaned against the window. Although her hood was pulled up and she wore her sunglasses to shield her eyes from the sun's illuminating rays, she had to close her eyes. She had popped two Excedrin, but the hammering in her head wouldn't cease. She was barely aware that her father was in the same condition. She briefly wondered why Glen had to ride with them and drive. She decided she didn't care as long as it meant her father was in no condition to address her transgressions.

Mark looked at his daughters briefly in the rear-view mirror. Reves appeared to be suffering. That was suspicious enough. It was Heather's apprehensive look that added to his suspicion. Her eyes darted back and forth as she had an open book in her lap, yet her eyes never fell on the page. "Everything ok, girl?" he questioned, causing her to jump. He regretted ask, only because his own voice beat like a drum inside his skull. Damn, he hadn't felt like that in a long time. How much had he drunk last night? He was a giant of a man; therefore, it took more than a couple beers and a shot to get him buzzed.

"I-I'm just concerned for you is all," she replied gently.

Mark knew there was more to it than that, but he decided he didn't have the energy to press her. "Don't go worrying about me, girl. I'll be fine. Got it?" He was thankful when she nodded in understanding because every spoken word was like a chair shot to the head. This was going to be a long day.

* * *

Even as the hang over subsided and a feeling of clarity began to return, Mark was far too busy to address his daughter's actions. He would have to said set her in her place when he had a moment. As of right now, he had none.

Reves lay on the leather couch, still overcome by nausea and a splitting headache.

Heather studied her from the loveseat opposite of where she lay. "I still cannot comprehend your frame of mind when you resolved this was a wise decision," Heather said dryly.

Her tone only agitated Reves more. "You can't comprehend it because you have the mind of a loser," Reves barked.

Heather was utterly stunned by her sister's harsh words. She would expect such a callous remark from one of those shallow bullies at school, but this was her own sister. She sat in shock, eyes brimming with tears. "Well, suffice that I am not the one indisposed at this present time from such unfortunate dissertation," she finally spoke before rising from the sofa and storming out of the room, leaving her sister wallow in her own misery.

Heather didn't really have an inclination as to what her destination was supposed to be as she wandered the corridors aimlessly, something that was impressed upon her not to make a habit of, especially after her run in with McMahon. Various crew members rushed past her to and fro without so much as a glance. She passed a few of the talent, one of whom was a hopeful jobber she had never met.

She stopped, taking a seat on a randomly placed black cargo crate. She sighed as an aching feeling over took her chest. She felt as if her sister was slowly transforming into someone else, a stranger. She didn't have the same patience for her as before and rather than confide in her, she seemed to prefer to harbor secrets. After the news of Reves's biological mother was revealed, it caused a rift that seemed impossible to med however hard she struggled to bandage this festering wound.

A lone tear slid down her milky cheek. She wiped it away when she noticed people approaching in her peripherals. Heather noticed her friends and she secretly wished they hadn't crossed her path.

Amy was laughing at something Matt had said, but when her eyes fell upon Heather, her continence changed to one of concern. "Heather, what's wrong?" she asked after seeing Heather's sullen expression.

"It's nothing. I'm fine," Heather responded, attempting to shrug it off. She did not meet the three pairs of eyes staring back at her.

"Come on, you don't hang out in the hallway brooding all by yourself," Jeff pressed.

She relented. "It's nothing, really. Rev and I got into this insignificant spat," she said.

"I told you. Sibling rivalry," Matt chuckled. "See, the problem is – no offense – younger siblings are always so annoying and us older siblings always have to set them straight." Matt placed a hand over his heart as if that were the honest to God's truth.

"Yeah right!" Jeff snorted. "It's the older ones who are always picking fights and bossing us around."

Amy rolled her eyes and shook her head. Her fiery hair swayed around her. "See? Even at their age, they don't grow out of it," she said with a smile.

The grin started to creep across Heather's face as she watched the brothers now play punching one another. She didn't know if her circumstances were quite the same, but their playful bickering certainly took some of the weight off of her heart.

"Will you two knock it off?" Amy feigned agitation while fighting the smirk that was crawling across her lips.

"Oh! Hey, check this out," Jeff said to Heather, suddenly no longer paying mind to his older brother. He pulled something from his pocket and placed it into Heather's tiny hands.

Heather stared at a rectangular card, puzzled. "What is this?" she questioned with hesitation. It appeared to be some sort of identification.

"A buddy of mine made it," Jeff answered with a nonchalant shrug.

She studied the card again. The female in the photo hard even resembled Heather by a stretch. One would either have to be intoxicated or ill in the head to surmise that it was indeed her in the mug shot.

Heather pushed it back towards Jeff. "I cannot use this," she declared. She tried to return it as if it seared her flesh.

"You don't have to drink or anything," Amy stated.

"We just thought maybe you would want to do some karaoke again sometime, or whatever. Got one for Rev too." Jeff pulled it out.

Were they mad? That was completely asinine. It was disgraceful enough that that man had let them into that bar to begin with. Now they were resorting to forging legal documentation?

"No sweat," Jeff said unfazed and put the cards back in the pocket of her baggy jeans.

"So, what's happening today? Mark in wrestler's court?" Matt asked.

Heather shrugged. "Not that I have any knowledge of." She sighed, hopping off the equipment crate. "I'd better make my return. I was instructed not to leave the locker room," Heather informed them.

"Okay. Say hi to Rev for us," Amy told her.

Heather nodded as they bid goodbye to one another.

When Heather returned to the locker room, Mark was nowhere to be found and Reves had fallen asleep once more. She sat down and opened a collection of short stories penned by Angela Carter.

Periodically, she would glance over at her slumbering sister. She knew she should be ready to make amends, but she found herself beginning to nurse a grudge as she recalled prior incidents of her sister's hostile behavior towards her. Heather was well aware of the absurdity of it all, but her sister's foolish mockery had gotten under her skin. She was nearly resolved to prove to her sister how wrong she was. She silently admonished herself. In what manner was she to accomplish that, exactly?

A though briefly flicked through her mind and she sincerely wished hadn't. She was far from keen on the thoughts that were intruding her brain: if she were to utilize that horrendous ID to hang out with her friends at a bar or club, she would not be branded such a "loser."

Heather confessed how much this made her out to be a hypocrite. She had faced it at all at school; peer pressure and coercing. She pushed the outlandish notion from her head.

* * *

"Damn it. Are you listening to me, Hall?" Vince barked drawing Scott from his thoughts.

"Yeah, Vin-man. Heard every word," Scott replied mechanically. After an aggravated glance, Vince continued. He was droning on about the plans for tonight's show. What did it matter? Once again, the nWo guys were getting buried in favor of Vince's favorite nut lickers, like Rocky. Hell, Scott knew it was a work, he wasn't a stooge. But getting buried on national tv every week was the shits.

Hall's thoughts were trained on the platinum hair vixen. He felt guilty for letting her become so intoxicated. He shouldn't be dragging her into his issues. He had never asked to become privy to her dilemmas either, but she had invited herself inside. He knew he shouldn't be thinking of more than what was on the surface. He already had a failed marriage and countless fail relationships under his belt. Was he supposed to chisel away at her icy heart when he was a complete disaster himself? His thoughts were racing faster than he could comprehend. The one thing he understood was that he wanted to spend more time around her aside from fucking.

* * *

When Mark entered the locker room, Reves was coming to. Her headache was starting to recede, but she still felt like shit for the most part.

"Alright girl, what's your malfunction? No bullshit either? Where did you get the shit?" Mark demanded.

"What are you talking about?" Reves looked at him with dark, droopy eyes.

"You think I was born yesterday?"

"Well, if you were, you're one big baby," Reves smirked, trying to deflect the question.

"Don't you fucking play dumb with me, girl!" Mark growled through gritted teeth, pointing a finger at her.

Heather clutched her book as her anxiety was mounting. She was huddled on one corner of the loveseat.

Reves only stared at him.

"Get your shit, right now!" Mark roared at her. He turned to his younger daughter with a calmer, but still gruff tone. "Heather, you're going too. You can thank your sister."

Heather only nodded and began to immediately pack up her things.

"I'm going to let Vince know. Then I'll be back in five minutes to take you back to the hotel," he told them.

"Why do you constantly have to defy him?" Heather asked once he was gone.

"Why do you constantly have to be such a suck up?" Reves retorted, dripping venom.

"I'm not. But I am not foolish enough to insight anger in him on purpose," Heather returned.

"Oh, please! What can he really do anyway? What has he ever really done to exercise his authority? He's just full of empty threats...and empty promises."

* * *

"Well this is a crock," Reves huffed, throwing herself down on the hotel bed after she finished pacing for the better part of five minutes.

Heather took her eyes off the page of her book and gave her sister a sideways glance. She fought the urge to respond, _"Well, if you hadn't gone and been so unruly, we wouldn't be here."_ She thought better of it, not wanting to ignite another skirmish.


	20. Chapter 20

A couple days later, the company arrived in Atlanta for Smackdown.

Scott approached Reves in catering and stood beside her. He pretended to be preoccupied with selecting fruit when he spoke the her in a hushed tone, stealing a sideways glance. "How ya doin' Chica?"

"Better now," she half smiled. She could feel the heat in her cheeks and she absolutely hated it. Even she didn't know if her reply was to be taken that she was better from her condition a couple days ago or better because of his presence. Somehow, he was looking at her not quite the same and it made her uneasy.

"Uh, this is going to sound strange," he lowered his voice even more. "Since we finish up early, I was wondering if, I dunno, do you wanna catch a movie or something?" He actually seemed somewhat nervous and unsure, which was quite the contrary of his cock-sure, macho attitude. "That is, if you can escape the prison warden." Scott glanced in Mark's general direction but didn't cast his eyes on him.

"Um, okay," Reves said, a little stunned. She wasn't sure how else to react. Then she abruptly turned away and walked back to the table, both of them knowing they have been in each other's presence far too long in front of prying eyes. Fortunate for her, Mark was too preoccupied listening to (and rolling his eyes) some rookie from the Tough Enough competition, whining about being hazed by Bradshaw.

Reves watched the jobber. Congratulations, she wanted to say, you just flushed your career down the toilet. She looked at her father's face. It had the telltale expression that said he wanted to slap the bitch out of this kid and tell him to get out of his sight. He didn't mainly for the sake of Heather, whom was sitting at the table, listening to the rookie recount his trauma with baited breath.

Once the career suicidal jobber got out of the way, Reves asked, "Dad, can I go back to the hotel?"

Mark narrowed his eyes and glared at her suspiciously. "For what?"

"I don't feel very good," she said attempting to sound innocent, but sounded more defensive.

"You don't feel good?" He wanted to ask her how she thought he felt after all the shit he went through on a daily basis. Instead he asked, "What the hell's the matter?"

"I'm surfing the crimson wave," she said dryly.

Mark groaned. "What the hell are you takin' about, girl?" He paused, hoping he was wrong about her meaning 'the monthlies.'

"Yes, Dad," Reves replied with an air of annoyance. "I am a mature young woman and I am having a period," she lied. Her voice carried in the air and half the catering area looked at her.

Mark sighed. He hated talking about this. Hell, he didn't understand why they got so damn moody and somehow, they were always in pain. It was just awkward and her really didn't want to have this conversation. That had been Sara's department, but when they were on the road as much as they were, it was inevitable. Still, he wanted to cut the conversation short. "Alright fine. I'll send you in a cab." Reves was already standing up before Mark even finished. "Heather, you want to look after her?" Mark asked, nodding towards his younger daughter.

"I'm not a kid, Dad. I can handle myself," Reves grimaced. "Stay Heather. Don't let me spoil anything for you."

"I'm not that interested in staying at any rate," Heather countered sweetly.

Reves knew she would say that. Damn it. Couldn't she ever do anything on her own? Heather was always ruining her plans. Instead of arguing, she began striding away, masking her annoyance.

Seeing the girls off, Mark shut the door for them before telling them not to leave the room. He paid the driver in advance and the man pulled off heading towards the hotel.

Heather turned to look at her sister with a curious expression painting her face. "Are you upset?" she asked in an innocent, hushed voice.

"Yes," Reves replied shortly, staring out the window.

"I'm sorry you are not feeling well," Heather told her, and her misplaced concern only exacerbated the mood Reves was in.

"I feel just fine," Reves finally admitted though gritted teeth.

"Then what reason did you tell Dad that for?" Heather stared at her, quizzically.

"Because, damn, I just want to get away from everyone breathing down my neck all the time okay!" Reves barked at her.

"Oh," was the only other word Heather whispered. She lowered her head and maintained silence the remainder of the ride.

It wasn't but a couple of minutes later that they arrived back at the hotel. They thanked the cab driver and headed to their room.

Reves waited impatiently for the time that Scott would be through. "When that time came, she stood slowly. "I'm going to get a soda," she said.

"We're not supposed to leave," Heather began, receiving an eyeroll from Reves, "but, I suppose it wouldn't do any harm to get a drink," Heather continued, raising from the chair where she sat.

Reves bit her lip in frustration. "What are you doing?"

Heather's innocent eyes stared at her, perplexed. "I am going with you to get a drink."

"No! Reves finally snapped like a rubber band pulled too taunt. "Don't you understand, I'm trying to get away from _you_?"

From the shocked and pained expression painting Heather's face, one would think her sister had just driven a stake through her heart. That was certainly the emotion state that her sister's cutting words rendered her. "I'm sorry," she atoned in a muffed squeak, her lovely emerald eyes misting over.

"Don't start," Reves scoffed, pushing down her guilt as she grabbed her bag. She needed to get out of there before her sister's melancholy eyes got the better of her.

Heather watched her swing the bag over her shoulder. "So, where are you go?" she asked, wiping tears away.

"So, you can tell on me to Dad?"

"No," Heather's voice was muted and nonconfrontational. Her eyes fell to the floor.

"I'm going to see a friend, because, you know, I actually want to live my life, not just rot in these hotel rooms. Have fun." Reves wiggled her fingers in a taunting wave before shutting the door behind her, leaving her sister standing in the middle of the room in disbelief.

A fresh wave of tears had sprang from the girl's eyes. Whatever possessed her sister to behave in this manner? They had been inseparable as children, now her own sister was treating her as if she was some sort of leper. Heather laid down on the bed, her tears soaking the pillow.

After about thirty minutes of crying, Heather sat up and took a deep breath. She couldn't cry anymore as a dull aching was starting in her skull. Perhaps her sister would come to discover just how much of a _loser _she really was. Without another thought, she grabbed her cell phone and dialed Amy's number.

* * *

Heather stood fidgeting and rocking back and forth as they waited in the long line outside what was supposed to be one of the hottest clubs in the city. Goodness, she couldn't do this. What was she thinking when she told Amy she wanted to utilize that forged identification Jeff had made? She hugged her body, apprehensively.

"You look awesome," Amy told her. "Stop acting so nervous. You'll give yourself away," she chided gently as she pushed Heather's arms down at her side.

Heather glanced down at her clothing. She was wearing a plaid dress with a pair of Chucks. She wasn't sure if this was appropriate attire. Bar a bikini top and hot pants, it would make do. She rarely wore make-up, but concluded if she were pushing her transgressions to this level, she may as well go all the way for the sake of it. It may aid her in appearing older at any rate.

Heather scolded herself for her thoughts as her stomach tightened in knots. Her mind filled with vivid imagery of what her father would do to her if he knew she were standing here now, poised to present this unknown bouncer with the faux ID. He would lock her in a room with no windows and throw away the key. She wished she could run from this impulsive decision.

"Heather, lets' move up," Matt said gingerly pushing her forward.

There were only a few people in front of them now. Heather could feel her palms growing sweaty as her heart was drumming in her chest. As a group of rowdy girls was granted access, the quartet stepped forward. Heather swallowed the lump in her throat. She fought the urge to vomit as she slowly handed the forged ID to the stout, bald-headed bouncer. He studied the image on the card meticulously, looked to Heather, then back to the card again. Heather stood frozen with baited breath for what was a few agonizing moments, yet it seemed an eternity. Finally, the burly man simply nodded and returned the ID to her. Heather accepted it in such shock she had to be led forward by Amy and Jeff. As they passed the guard, Jeff hugged her from behind and exclaimed, "You made it!"

Remaining in disbelief, Heather simply nodded. What if that man realized she wasn't of age and came after her to give her the boot? Would they contact her father? The police?

The worry was still evident on her face when Amy took her hand, "Will you calm down? You're in."

"O-okay," Heather replied in a shaky voice. She could already hear the noise drifting from inside as they paid the cover charge. They entered the vicinity and Heather's senses were assaulted by the luminescent strobing lights, the vulgar music that was thumping the gigantic speakers at the DJ booth, the pungent sent of sweat and cigarettes wafting threw the air. She quickly noticed the stuffy atmosphere and the heat from the congregation of so many bodies.

Heather looked at the three of them. "I'm not so sure about this," she stated hesitantly as she stared out to the sea of people, then back to her friends.

"Don't be silly. You've made it this far. You want to leave now?" Matt teased.

They found an empty table and Heather, Amy and Matt sat down while Jeff went to get some drinks. "It's still soda for you," Jeff stated pointing a finger at Heather. She nodded and that was perfectly agreeable to her. If her sister's condition from the prior day was any indication, she didn't care to ever partake. A few minutes later, Jeff returned with the drinks and a can of Coke for Heather.

* * *

Kevin sat at the bar knocking back his first beer, already out of patience. Why the hell did she want to meet at this lame ass club anyway he thought to himself. He was waiting for a woman named Scarlett. Woman was a loose term here. Really, she was a well know rat that had been on scene since the mid-90s after she had turned eighteen. Despite that, Kev had never hooked up with her until just a couple years ago when he was going through his divorce. Normally, she was Scott's lay, but since he was preoccupied with that obnoxious Calaway girl, he was MIA.

"Man, I fucking hate that chick," Kid said randomly, pulling Nash from his thoughts.

Kevin looked at his friend sitting beside him. "That's because she made fun of your dick that last time you fucked her," Kev smirked.

"Yeah! Who the fuck does that?" Kid exclaimed. "Just because she's like throwing a hotdog down a hallway doesn't mean she has to call me small."

"Brother, we don't call her_ Scarlett the Harlot_ for nothing," Nash shrugged as his hazel eyes scanned the vicinity. Damn, where the fuck was she?

* * *

"I would really rather not," Heather protested as Amy was trying to coerce her out onto the dance floor. "It isn't dignified."

"Heather, don't be silly. C'mon it's fun. Besides, no one cares. They are all too drunk to notice," Amy argued, forcing her from the booth.

Heather felt herself being dragged to the edge of the dance floor. Her eyes were trained on Amy as the woman's hips started to sway and her body moved along with the music. Heather stood, watching in awe at the confidence she exuded. A moment later, Matt and Jeff joined them. This eased Heather's nerves a bit, but she would rather just sit back and watch. She did not possess the confidence to get out there and "shake her moneymaker" as they would say.

After informing the others, she decided to make her way back to the table. It's wasn't until then that she realized how far into the center of the open room they had moved. Arriving back, she had discovered that their original seating was now occupied.

She moved to find another table. The club was now severely congested, causing maneuvering to become difficult. Heather inadvertently collided with a stranger, sloshing their beer over the both of them. "Watch it, bitch!" the guy yelled at her in his drunken stupor.

"S-s-sorry," she stuttered out as she quickly scurried away as best she could within the rabid crowd. Heather was feeling inundated with sensory overload and just wanted to find a secluded place to collect herself.

She found a vacant section of plush seating along the perimeter of the club and moved to the farthest corner possible. She sat and lowered her head. Her hair fell over her eyes like a curtain and blocked out some of the madness.

Almost immediately to her left, two people plopped down on the lounge seating, making out heavily with fondling and groping. Heather inhaled sharply and stole a wide-eyed glance at them. She quickly averted her eyes, a burning mortification spreading throughout her being. She noticed both parties happened to be female. That was not the issue, however. How could anyone perform such a sordid display in public?

One of the girls noticed Heather's innocent shock as she briefly gazed at them once more before raising her hand to shield her vision. The girl giggled when she caught sight of the color bursting from the cheeks of the young ebony-haired female. "Hey. You're a cutie," the girl smiled. "Wanna play with us?"

Had they not been necking right before her eyes, Heather probably would have been naïve enough to inquire what it was they wanted to play. In this instance however, she was all too aware of what the young woman was insinuating. Heather's mouth opened in a gaping 'O' position as her eyes protruded from their sockets and flames ignited on her face. "No, thank you," she blurted out promptly. "E-excuse me." She shot up from the lounge and hurried away. She was going to find Amy and the guys and demand they take her back to the hotel.

She squeezed through the crowd only to find that not one of them was where she had last seen them. Her eyes swept the club frantically but the horde of people was so thick it was futile. She pressed through the mob; her anxiety mounting. The speakers were blaring at an audacious level and she felt as if the strobing lights were going to force her into an epileptic seizer. Moreover, the masses of bodies swaying and gyrating were causing her to become claustrophobic. A few intoxicated jerks were trying to paw at her as she passed and to her horror, one even attempted to slide his hand under her dress to grab her backside. Terrified, she forced his hand way and swiftly rushed off.

Heather stole into the narrow hall that lead to the restrooms. She pressed herself into a far corner and sunk to the floor, as tears slide down her face. This was a nightmare and she just wanted to go home. Alas, she was all alone. She couldn't locate her friends. How would she get back? She had been a fool to come her. What exactly had she been trying to prove, at any rate?

* * *

As he excited the men's room, Kevin decided he had had enough waiting on Scarlett's bullshit. He was going to tell Kid he was out.

Suddenly, something caught his ear. Stopping he thought her had heard the faint sound of crying behind him. It was hard to tell within the jumbled din of music and people screaming and shouting and laughing in their drunkenness. He turned back a few paces and attuned his ears to the vague noise. Coming upon the source, his gaze fell down to a tiny creature huddled in the shadows. Hugging her knees, her head was bent, resting upon them. The girl's body shook as choking sobs erupted from her.

"Hey kid," Kevin said, to no reply. Kevin grunted. Why was he wasting his fucking breath? Girl was probably drunk and fighting with her friends or boyfriends. Bending down, he noticed a mass of ebony and violet tresses falling around her. "Kid, you okay?" he raised his voice trying to get her attention. He received no response once again, resorting to placing a hand on her arm.

"Please just leave me alone," she mewled as her head bolted up.

Kevin was stunned when he was met by the fear stricken emerald eyes of the younger Calaway daughter. Her eyes were puffy and red from crying and make-up smeared her normally fresh face. Once she recognized his continence, she was equally shocked to find him staring down at her. His eyes bore into her with a mixture of surprise and irritation. "What are you doing here?" he demanded.

Before she had even parted her lips to form a response, he pulled her to her feet. Guiding her gently by the elbow, he barged through the throngs of flush-faced, tipsy club-goers like a bulldozer and lead her outside.

The cool, night air rushed against her and it was like inhaling oxygen after several minutes. The stifling atmosphere of the club had been suffocating.

Once outside her brought her further down the sidewalk, out of earshot of the bouncers whom looked at them with furtive glances before turning back to their business.

"What do you think you are doing here?" his bass voice boomed as he demanded once again.

There was no reply from the young girl, only choking sobs that racked her tiny frame.

Nash groaned in frustration. He did wish she would stop crying. He really wasn't in the mood to have to fight with the two bouncers standing just yards away, should he be unfortunate to arise their ire. "How did you get in there?" he restated his query firmly, folding his jacked arms over his broad chest.

Heather remained speechless, but reached a trembling hand into her clutch purse. Procuring the fake ID, she surrendered it to him and her head dropped towards the ground in shame.

Kevin studied the photo on the card in disbelief. The woman (if you could say that) in the photo was an absolute troll. She bared no resemblance to the young girl standing before him, with her round feminine face, smooth porcelain skin and bright eyes. He had half a mind to turn and jack both those bouncers in the mouth, but he wasn't up for a brawl at the moment.

"I was a bouncer myself for a long time and I would never have let you in there with this bogus shit," he stated. "Where'd you get this?"

She didn't look at him but shifted her still bent head. Still weeping, she hugged her body. "J-Jeff," she stuttered inaudibly. As soon as his name left her lips, she was filled with regret, having thrown her friend under the bus.

"Hardy?" he pressed, but didn't need her conformation. He was the only Jeff he had ever seen her paling around with. "I'm gonna rip that rainbow hair right off his fucking scalp!" Nash practically growled through gritted teeth.

Heather flinched and stared up at his sour disposition with frightenedly wide eyes. "A-are you going to tell my father?" she questioned with a frantic desperation, her heart being rapidly in her chest.

"No," he responded, shaking his head. "But you're not get this back." He held up the fake ID. Then, in his massive hand he bent the card, snapping it like a twig and shoved the two halves into his back pocket. "Come on. I'm gonna take you back to the hotel," Kevin told her.

Heather froze, staring up at him, mouth slightly ajar. She couldn't go with him! "E-excuse me?" she stuttered, though she was positive she had heard him correctly.

"I'm going to take you to the hotel," he repeated.

"My apologies, but I can not go with you." Presently, it had dawned on her that she had no other option. She glanced back at the doors of the club. She wouldn't have the ability to return inside and a portion of her was grateful for that. She looked up and down the dimly lit, rugged streets. "What of Amy and Matt and Jeff? They will most assuredly be concerned with my whereabouts."

Kevin found himself musing at her choice of speech, then returned flatly, "They deserve to be scared shitless for a few minutes, pulling some shit like that." He gingerly placed an enormous hand on her upper back. "You may air any grievances during the ride back," he said, steering her down the sidewalk towards his rental.

They came upon a black Cadillac and he opened the door for her, ushering her to enter. She gazed up at him in awe as if she hadn't believed him until he was urging her inside. Her face flared in humiliation and she wondered what he must think of her. On trembling legs, she reluctantly stepped towards the vehicle and seated herself inside.


	21. Chapter 21

**Sorry everyone, I usually try to update at least once a week, but well, the holidays and life in general, right now. Ugh. This has been in the drafts from almost a week now. I've been tweaking it here and there, but getting kind of tired of messing with it.**

**Warnings: Oral sex. Erotic fantasies involving a minor. If you take issue with either of those things, well I don't know how you've read thus far, to be honest. Anyway, on to the story...**

* * *

Kevin shut Heather's door and went around getting in on the driver's side. She had pulled out some tissues from her clutch and did her best to clean up the smeared makeup from her face. Her bawling had reduced to sporadic sniffles, but she didn't look at him.

It was obvious from her ridged posture, she was ill at ease. He knew it must have been unnerving to have some giant of man forcing her into his car. He couldn't hold that against her. He hoped for her sake, if she were ever in a situation where she was truly threatened, she would have the gumption to fight back. He knew she loved music so he turned the radio on to a low hum to soothe her as he pulled out onto the roadway.

After a minute or so of silence, she spoke to him in a low murmur, "T-thank you."

"You go it, little one. It's no problem," he glanced at her momentarily and even though she didn't look at him, she sensed his gaze upon her, causing her to redden as she bit her lip. The silence fell between them once more, but he could feel her studying him now, through the curtain of ebony hair. Another couple of minutes passed and he asked, "Something bothering you?"

To his surprise, she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, her green eyes trained upon him. "Why are you always so kind to me?"

Her inquisition caught him off guard a little. It was the first time he had heard her speak with any sense of conviction and she regarded him almost suspiciously. "What? As opposed to being an asshole?" he asked sardonically.

"I-no, I only meant-I'm sorry…" she muttered as her face glowed like fire.

Kevin frowned at the discouraged expression on her face. "I know my reputation precedes me. You don't exactly get anywhere in this business without making a couple enemies. After over ten years in this business, everyone's got an opinion, so you're not really telling me anything I don't already know."

Her gaze had not left him for several moments. "I think most people are wrong," she said softly. "You have always shown great regard toward me. And you care for your friends with an unwavering loyalty. I don't think you can be such a bad person on that basis." She averted her eyes now, her face aflame after the confession unexpectedly tumbled off her tongue.

Kevin chuckled at her bashful innocence, yet there was a pang inside his chest after her word. If he was one of the nicer guys she knew, something was surely amiss. He knew he was a prick, never the less, he wasn't going to admit that to her. He hadn't meant to lead her into any misconception, and she was a little too naive to be tangled up in this seedy business. That prospect worried him. Like why the hell her so-called "friends" though it was a good idea to drag her out to that club in the first place?

"So, what made you think you needed to go out partying tonight?" he asked of her.

A nervous laugh escaped her lips. "You know, I haven't the slightest inclination," she shook her head and the small grin that played on her lips was like her tiny hand reaching out and squeezing his heart right inside his chest. He had seen just about every emotion dance across her lovely face (save raging anger, something he wasn't sure she was capable of) but her smile suited her best of all. "Sibling rivalry, I suppose. I feel so foolish." She dropped her head.

As quickly as the smile came, it faded and Kevin gathered it had something to do with an argument she had with her sister. "You're not foolish," he told her. "You're just a kid trying to have fun. As you should, but fake IDs and getting into clubs illegally is not the way to go."

"Have no fear. I am never setting foot in a place like that again in my life," Heather vowed.

Kevin chuckled at her. "Well, you might want to someday when you don't have to forge an ID with some ugly hag. But at least I know I don't have to be concerned for now." He wanted to bite his tongue. Was it really any of his concern? Certainly, he wasn't going to leave her crouched in the corner, bawling her eyes out, but it really wasn't his place to look out for her. Yet, somehow or other it seemed her issues always fell into his lap.

He was pulled from his thoughts when a small gasp escaped her full lips. "This is a great song!" she exclaimed. Without a second thought, she grabbed the dial and cranked up the volume. Eddies Money's _"Take Me Home Tonight"_ poured from the speakers. Only moments later did her poise return to her as her continence flared again.

Grinning with amusement, Kevin glanced at her. He didn't think he had ever seen her so animated. Unfortunately, that too was snuffed out when she shrunk back inside herself. "I'm sorry," she whispered, turning the music down and faced the window.

"It is awkward isn't it?" he spoke but she remained facing the window. "But it's not as awkward as shooting riods into another man's ass."

She stared at him with an expression of shock. "I-is that supposed to comfort me? Because it most certainly does not!"

"You are smiling," he teased.

"No, I am not," she said, battling the smirk from spreading on her face. "That is utterly appalling," she remarked.

"So, you're saying you find me appalling?" Kevin goaded her with a grin.

Heather was having difficulty forming a coherent sentence. "N-n-no! I, uh…" She was like a bird with ruffled feathers.

"Relax, little girl. I'm messing with you," he chuckled, watching her face relax.

They arrived at the hotel, pulling into the parking lot. Kevin pulled up to the door so she wouldn't have to walk through the parking lot in the dark. Heather found herself wishing the ride had taken longer, for some reason. "Well, I thank you. I am greatly appreciative of all you have done for me. I shall try to be less of a burden to you in the future.

Kevin shook his head and grinned, "Don't mention it."

He stretched across her body and opened the door for her. Her stomach gave an odd flutter as his muscular form brushed passed her.

She went to exit the vehicle but was halted by the seat belt that was still in place. Her face ignited.

Kevin reached over nonchalantly and pressed the release button to unfasten it. "Accursed retainment apparatus," he mused, assuming she likely would have uttered something along those lines, had she had her wits about her.

Heather merely nodded and muttered a word of thanks. Then, she made a hasty exit, scurrying swiftly into the hotel.

He watched her until she disappeared from his sight completely. Sweet kid. Too sweet to be tangled up in all this bullshit. Despite all of that, those lovely, bright eyes maintained their innocence, laced with an unwavering wonder. He hoped she maintained that, because this business was a dark, sordid, fucked up beast.

Alone with his thoughts, he suddenly realized he had left Kid at the club and that he was supposed to be meeting up with Scarlett still. "Fuck," he grumbled as she shifted into drive and headed back to the club.

* * *

Returning to the club, the assholes had charged him for entrance, again. He knew it was bullshit. You don't soon forget a seven-foot motherfucker. He shoved the money at them, along with a few choice expletives and a finger. All he wanted was to collect his friend.

Left to his own devices, Kid did what anyone would expect. He drank himself silly. Kev found him on the floor near the bar, rolling with laughter. "Alright, ups-a-daisy," Kevin said as he pulled Kid from the floor. He helped Kid out of the club and into the car. He really didn't know what would become of these dudes had he not been there to look after their asses all these years.

Getting to the hotel, he brought Kid to his room, making sure he got to bed like a child. He loved his buddies, but damn it if he got tired of being everyone's babysitter.

He was ready to hit the sack. He hadn't heard from Scarlett and he really didn't give a damn. As he approached his room, however, he noticed her waiting outside. Shocking as it may be, he really wasn't in the mood to fuck. But since she was here, he supposed a blow wouldn't hurt.

"There you are," she said in an exasperated tone, flipping her bleach blonde hair. "I went to the club, but Kid said you left all of a sudden." She fixed her cool gray eyes on him.

Kevin opened his mouth to tell her that she didn't have the privilege to call Sean by that name, but he let it go. "I was giving a ride to…" he thought for a moment, "a friend," he said for lack of a better term and explanation.

"Oh," Scarlett said, nonchalantly, though jealousy flashed in her eyes momentarily. "I don't suppose this _friend _gave you a little piece in return, did they? No matter. You know I can rock your world better than her." Her ruby painted lips grinned coyly as she ran a finely manicured blood, red nail down his chest.

Kevin inhaled sharply. Scarlett's insinuation sent a strange shudder throughout his body. He started to protest in defense that it wasn't anything like that, but that was none of her concern. He didn't need to explain shit. "You want to do this or what?" he groused, running low on patience.

She gave a small laugh. "Well, why don't you open the door and let us in, Big Sexy?"

He tried not to scowl at her as he opened the door. Sure, he came up with the nickname and he dubbed it on himself but honestly, it got to be pretty lame when women tried to use it as a means of flattery all the damn time. He turned on the light and they entered the room.

Scarlett sat on the bed and proceed to remove her high heels. Ordinarily, Kevin would have told her to keep them on as leverage for the height difference, but the only orifice he was sticking it in tonight was the one she kept flapping.

"Where is Scotty tonight? Does he not like me anymore?" She pouted as she unbuckled the strap of her shoe.

"How should I know? I'm not his damn keeper." Nash grumbled. The fact was, he did know, of course. Scott had taken his little _rebel_ to see a movie. He tried to tell his friend what an awful idea that was, but he wasn't having it. At any rate, he certainly wasn't going to divulge any of this to Scarlett. Nash felt guilty to a certain extent. He didn't take pride in have the sore attitude with her that he did, but some of these broads just didn't understand you couldn't turn a rat into a housewife. "You're here with me anyway, right?" his tone softened. He sat down beside her and she smiled up at him.

* * *

Heather had just stepped out of the shower after scrubbing the makeup off her face. She was still a little shaken from her experience at the club and she regretted her poor judgment. She threw on a pair of pajama bottoms and an oversized tee-shirt, then began brushing the tangles from her cascading tendrils. She winced when the brush caught a nasty snag. Her hair was always getting tangled way too easily and felt beyond manageable at times. She paused. Kevin Nash has lovely hair. It looks so luxurious and sleek to the touch and it looks quite agreeable on him, Heather pondered. She felt the heat rise up in her cheeks. What kind of freak wonders after the condition of other's hair? How could she allow musings so preposterous to run arrantly through her conscience?

As she finished combing out her hair there was a knock at the door. Was that her father? She dismissed her assumption. He would not knock. Nor would Rev. Speaking of which, she hoped Rev would make her way back prior to their father, for her sake.

She heard he knocking repeat and realized there was no one to answer the door. She frowned and let out a sigh. Grudgingly, she began the approach the door. She attempted to gaze through the peephole, but her stature was working against her. "H-who is it?" she called in a cautious tone.

"It's Amy. Open up!" the voice responded from the other side.

Recognizing her friend's voice, she moved the chain lock and unlatched the bolt to open the door.

No sooner than the door was open a couple of feet, Amy threw her arms around her young friend, pulling her into a bone-crushing hug. "Thank God!" Amy breathed "Heather what happened? We were so worried. We looked for you everywhere, but you were just gone. Matt and Jeff are out riding around looking for you. We were completely freaking out. I thought some had kidnapped you, or you were dead in a gutter somewhere!"

Amy babbled on and Heather questioned for a fleeting moment if they were really so concerned with her welfare or if it was the wrath of her father they feared. After it passed, guilt settled into her stomach. How could she think so ill of her friends? When she saw the tears flowing down Amy's cheeks, she was more so contrite.

"Why would you disappear on us like that? Amy questioned.

"I'm sorry," Heather whispered. "I couldn't locate you and I just wanted to get out of there."

"How did you get back?"

Heather hesitated a moment, not wanting to meet the older woman's eyes. "I- I called a taxi." She loathed being dishonest to her friend, but there was a portion of her that didn't want to be forthcoming about her encounter with the long-haired giant, for obvious reasons, in addition to motives she couldn't quite understand.

"Why didn't you answer your phone? I must have called you three dozen times.".

Heather's gaze wandered to her cell phone laying on the nightstand, the exact place she had left it when she had phoned Amy earlier in the evening. "I had forgotten it. I called the taxi from the phone behind the bar," she fabricated another fib before Amy could inquisition her further. She averted her eyes, feeling so contrite she had the momentary urge to confess the truth to her friend.

Amy exhaled deeply. "I'm just so relieved you're safe. Next time do not leave the room without your cell phone, understood? It's very important," Amy stated firmly.

Heather nodded. It was rather bizarre to witness wild child, Amy Dumas assuming such a maternal role. This was the young woman who lived her life spur of the moment and could be considered somewhat erratic. She had moved from her mother's home and was living on her own at Heather's age. She had rented a room in someone's basement in the DC area. This was also the woman who decided, on a whim, to pack up and go to Mexico because she wanted to learn to wrestle. To Heather, she was fearless and the younger girl couldn't help but be lost briefly in admiration.

"Promise me, Heather," Amy commanded, pulling her from her musings.

"I promise," Heather murmured.

"Good," Amy hugged her once more. "I'm going to call Matt and Jeff and tell them you're ok. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Heather replied, before shutting the door.

* * *

"Oh shit," Nash groaned as he closed his eyes and threw his head back. He reveled in the physical pleasure that was flowing through him under Scarlett's ministrations. If there was one positive thing to be said about Scarlett, it was that she had the ability to suck a golf ball out of a garden hose.

In response, Scarlett made a muffled sound around his dick as she took more of him in. With each stroke, he disappeared into her, little by little. Her head bobbed up and down and eventually, she had swallowed him whole.

"Fuck yeah," Nash grunted and tangled his hand into her bleach blonde locks.

"Oh yeah. You fuckin' like that, don't you?" she asked coyly, substituting her hand in place of her mouth, momentarily.

"Keep suckin' baby," he replied as he forced himself back into her hot, wet mouth. She took him happily with enthusiastic vigor. Her head undulated quicker as the suction increased in response to his groans of pleasure. It almost made him feel remorseful that he was going to boot her out once he had shot his load deep within her throat, which she would greedily accept.

He edged closer to release with each passing second. Scarlett could feel his member swelling between her lips as he was heading towards an explosion. She was quite proud of herself. She knew none of those other bitches could please any of them like she did. That's why they kept coming back to her. Staring upward, her eyes fixed on him, relishing in the pleasure that registered on his face.

His gaze wandered downward and their eyes locked. Her cool grey eyes were asserted upon him and he stared back at them with burning intensity.

Unexpectedly, a pair of emerald orbs, two precious gems, emerged within his mind's eye. He growled low in his throat, inviting the image. His breath came out in heavy pants as those sparkling green eyes danced inside his head. "Yes, that's it, baby. Oh, fuck!" he spoke in a low, gravelly voice, forcing the young woman's head down over him. As he closed his eyes, the countenance in his head slowly materialized, gracing his inner vision with a visage of timid virtue that was so delighted to gratify him. The alluring illustration was driving him further to the edge.

Just as he was on the verge of erupting into a massive explosion, Kevin's eyes snapped open and the horror of his illusion fell over him like a ton of bricks. His fingers still entangled in her hair; he tore Scarlett abruptly from his body.

Caught off guard, Scarlett let out a shriek as Kevin inadvertently flung her to the floor. "What the hell?" she questioned from her position down below.

"Just get out," Kevin breathed out harshly. He got up from the bed and began dressing.

"What the fuck is your problem?" she demanded.

"I said, get out!" his voice boomed. That angry ogre was rearing its ugly head.

Scarlett's face was twisted into a furious snarl. If she was afraid, to her credit, she didn't show it. "Fuck you then, Nash!" she shrilled as she swiped up her black stiletto pumps from the hotel floor.

Under different circumstances, he would have come back with a snappy quip, but the illusion on his brain had him thoroughly shaken. He just wanted to be alone to sort out his thoughts.

Without another word, Scarlett burst from the room, slamming the door behind her.

Kevin locked the door. Leaning against it, he raked a hand through his hair as he released an exasperated sigh. He wasn't sure what kind of tricks his mind was playing on him but it was fucking freaking him out.

Was he attracted to her? No way. Not a snowball's chance in Hell. Admittedly, he had had his fair share of barely legals. But this was literal jail bait. Moreover, he could have any sexy, sophisticated woman he set his sights on. So, what was it about this grungy little mall rat, who looked like some sort of Robert Smith wannabe that was consuming his thoughts as of late? An involuntary smile pulled at his mouth as he recalled her mortification over belting the lines to the Eddie Money song. For a few fleeting moments prior, she had cast aside her inhibitions and her true self came through. She was bright. She was beautiful. She was…fuck. Grudgingly, he began to strip away his clothes again, ashamed to admit he still needed a cold shower.

* * *

Scott's arm steadied Reves as she doubled over in laughter on their way to the car. He was telling her stories about how the Kliq used to piss off and fuck with Mark and the rest of the Bone Street Krew. From her perspective, ruffling her old man's feathers was one of the greatest joys in life.

"Ok. Ok," Scott said laughing along with her. "This one's a lot more tame, but still hilarious. This one time, we stole Mark's gym bag, threw his gear in the dumpster and filled it with cucumbers! He freaked the fuck out."

"Oh my God. How are you even friends? I wish I could have seen that!" Reves howled. It was a little-known fact that her father had this bizarre phobia of the green produce. It made for great entertainment to taunt him over it.

She didn't know if there was a particular term for such a thing, but she was sure her sister probably did. Reves could hear in her head: _"It's call holycrapitsacucumberphobia, of course_," bringing on another round of laughter.

Scott stopped to watch her. He had never seen her hold a smile on her lips for so long, much less laugh. Her eyes sparkled like the sun over crystal blue waters. He took her into his arms and kissed her, mid-laughter.

When they parted, she stared at him for a few moments. Her breath was a little ragged from both laughing and the kiss. "I should probably get back," she said slowly.

Scott looked at his watch and sighed. "Yeah, you're right. Let's go," he said, throwing his arm around her shoulder as the resumed their walk to the car.

* * *

As per the norm, Heather had been reading when Reves sauntered through the door and flung herself on the bed with an exhausted sigh.

Heather gave her a furtive glance. "You've been drinking again," she stated, taking note of her glassy eyes.

"Just one beer," Reves shrugged her off as she sat up to remove her boots.

"Where did you go?" Heather asked, not anticipating an answer.

"To the movies, if it matters. Which is more than you did, that's for sure," Reves said with a smug expression.

Heather turned away from her in silence. She certainly didn't want to recount the night's escapades, not that her sister would have given her any credibility. She placed her book on the nightstand. "I'm glad you're back safely," she said before switching off the light and turning to her side to go to sleep.

* * *

**That's Robert Smith from The Cure btw.**


	22. Chapter 22

**Hello, everyone. Sorry for the long delay. Life has been hectic and I have not been as happy with the stuff I've been draft as of late, so I hope this is ok. **

**Thanks to Idcam for the review. This story is quite a long one. Heather will become much stronger with a little bit of that old attitude, but I found the older version the be a little too bitchy and bratty to be honest, so I decided to dial it back a bit. The ages of the Calaway kids are: Rev-19, the twins-18 and Heather- 17, turning 18 towards the end of the story.**

**Alright, here we go:**

* * *

"You did not, you little dork!" Reves gasped as she listened to last night's tale in disbelief.

"Believe me, I wished I hadn't," Heather grimaced.

"Alright then. Let me see it," Reves raised an eyebrow and held out her hand, expectantly.

"I can't. It-I lost it," Heather demurred as she recalled Kevin Nash snapping it in half and confiscating it from her.

"I suppose it's just as well," Jeff sigh. "I'm sorry Heather. That was really stupid on our part."

"So, what about me?" Reves demanded, miffed that she had been left out.

"Yeah, there was one made for you. But sorry, you ain't gettin' it," Amy shook her head, swaying her crimson locks.

"You fuckers suck!" Reves pouted.

"You still love us, though," Matt nudged her.

Rev's arms were folded over her chest and her face set in a scowl, though she tried not to smirk.

"Hey, I know that melody," Heather interjected in a passive tone as Jeff strummed on an acoustic guitar.

"Oh, of course, you do," Reves rolled her eyes.

"It's a Led Zeppelin song," Heather stated, trying to recollect the lyrics. She hummed the tune softly. "Going to California."

Jeff stopped playing. "You know all the lyrics?" he asked.

"Yes," Heather answered with a nod of her head.

"Let's give'r a go then."

"Oh no. I couldn't, Not here in the middle of the hall."

"What's the problem?"

"People will think I'm mental."

Jeff merely stared at her with an expression that seemed to say: _'Have you seen me? Do you really think I give a damn what people think or say?'_

Heather blushed under his scrutiny and looked down at her shoes. "Oh, okay, but you have to sing along with me," she told him as she sat beside him on the black equipment crate.

Jeff began strumming the cords, getting the melody going. He glanced at Heather and that was the cue to begin singing. _"Spend my days with a one of a kind. Smoke my stuff and drank all my wine…"_

Their voices and the sound of the instrument had attracted some passing crew and superstars who were curious about the sound that had drawn them.

Heather didn't meet any of the dozens of pairs of eyes that were fixed on her. Instead, her eyes were trained on the floor. To her chagrin, she was aware that Jeff had stopped singing midway through. Frozen in her position, she continued to warble the poetic lyrics of almost unrequited love even though all she wished to do was hop down and sprint away from their gazes boring into her.

"_Ride a white mare in the footsteps of dawn. Try to find a woman who's never, never been born…" _Heather's eyes were still on the ground when she felt and eerily familiar gaze fixed on her person, one that beckoned her to raise her head to the left. Her heart nearly burst through her chest when she spied Nash with his friends, Hall and Waltman towards the back of the congregation. Her voice faltered and nearly cracked as she attempted to keep her notes steady. She quickly averted her stare. Her cheeks went from a soft pink to a ruby red as she quickly belted out the remaining lyrics.

Nash watched her from the back of the crowd. He couldn't believe she was paling around with the Hardys' and Amy after they stupidly put her in jeopardy last night. His eyes narrowed as he looked at Jeff playing his guitar. He suppressed the urge to walk straight up to the younger Hardy and bitch slap the rainbow.

When the song concluded the small congregation erupted into applause and whistles. Heather took the praise with gracious humility. Her face was ablaze due to the unaccustomed attention. Superstars and stagehands alike were congratulating and complimenting her performance; some of whom had never spoken more than a few words to her. The same could be said of her towards them. Though she grinned shyly, her eyes remained on the floor. She dared not shift her eye towards the three kliq members, despite their eyes upon her little motley crew.

"What the hell is going on here?" a voice boomed amid the revelry. A hush fell over the gathering as the Chairman made his presence known. "Don't you all have work to be getting done?" His expression was hard as stone as he glowered at the gaggle of faces that were present. Everyone began to disperse as they knew it was not a question, but a threatening command.

The kliq boys waited a few moments to witness Vince reprimanding the Hardys and Amy. "Don't you think that means you three as well?" He groused at them as they all proceeded to shuffle along. "Excuse me! Did I tell you two to go?" Vince pointed at the Calaway sisters.

Down the way, Reves could see Hall, Nash, and Waltman. She smiled slyly at Hall while Vince blathered on about whatever the hell was up his ass at the moment. She was met with a return smile from Hall, while Nash glared at her. She would have flipped Nash off, but he was standing directly behind Vince, and even she knew that would be straight up idiotic.

"This is **my **company! I can't have you distracting my employees all the time. Do I make myself clear?" Vince barked.

_Crystal, asshole._ Reves uttered silently.

"Y-yes s-sir," Heather mumbled inaudibly. She had not looked up the entire time, not even for a moment, but she was aware of someone else watching them.

"Good. I'm not going to tolerate any more bullshit." Vince turned away and they took the opportunity to scurry off, but not before Heather caught a glimpse of who had been observing them. That was about the time Vince's eyes fell on them. "What are you doing here?" he demanded.

"We were just making sure you're okay, Boss," Scott told him. He was half earnest.

"You don't need to concern yourselves with my condition. But you had better prepare for the show," he said firmly before strutting off.

The three men sauntered away now that everyone else had disappeared.

"Do you think someone will nail one of them someday? That blonde's at least gotta be legal. Right?" Sean mused.

Kevin gave Scott a sideways glare over Sean's head. "Best keep your snake in its cage when it comes to either of those two, Kid," he told his friend.

Scott rolled his eyes, dismissing his best friend's critical gaze.

* * *

"Mr. McMahon was completely overreacting. You know, like he always does," Reves said, disinterested in the riot act their father was giving them.

"I don't care. You pissed him off and I've told you time and again not to get in his way," Mark reprimanded her.

"Well actually, I didn't do anything – for once. That was that one over there," Reves pointed to her sister sitting silently on the adjacent sofa.

"I didn't intend to arouse Mr. McMahon's anger," Heather whimpered.

"Ok. Never use the words _arouse_ and _Mr. McMahon_ in the same sentence. That's fucking disgusting!" Reves told her.

"Shut your mouth, Reves!" Mark boomed.

Heather stared up at her father with contrition. Her face burned from Reves's lewd inclination.

"Just be extra careful to steer clear of Vince. It's his way or the highway," Mark relented in his rebuking.

_I think I'll take my chances as a hitchhiker_, Reves wanted to say.

"Yes, sir," Heather acquiesced. After a moment of silence, she asked, "Dad? Do you think you could read over my thesis before I submit it?"

"Sorry girl. Vince wants me to help train some of the younger talent today," he answered.

"That's quite alright," the young girl lowered her head.

"I've gotta go. I shouldn't have to say it, but stay the hell out of trouble," Mark warned them before he disappeared.

Reves let out a scoff once he was gone.

Heather turned towards her sister with a hopeful expression. "Rev-"

"How 'bout, no?" Reves cut her off.

"I'm sorry," Heather offered though she had no cause to apologize. She labored to mask her disappointment.

Reves ignored her sister. Rummaging through her bag, she pulled out a pen and a piece of paper. She scribbled hastily.

Heather eyed her, not questioning what she was writing or what she was planning to do. Reves folded the paper neatly, in the same manner, one would fold a note to pass to a friend in class. Heather's curiosity piqued, but she remained silent.

"I'll be back," Reves said plainly. She got up from the chair and headed towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Heather finally inquired, turning her body to look at her older sister.

"I'll be back," Rev repeated and left the room.

Heather sighed in defeat.

After some time had passed, she picked up the copy of her thesis and stared at it vacantly. The next moment her thoughts became errant – to herself, at any rate. No one was offering their assistance to her. What other measure did she have, but to seek it out from others? _There now. That is quite a satisfactory resolution, is it not? _She asked herself. Tucking the papers in a folder, she set off before she could abandon her intent. She stood and left the room. She intended to return as swiftly as possible.

* * *

Reves approached the nWo locker room. Glancing around to be sure no one would recognize her; she crouched down and slipped the note under the door. It was a tight fit, so she had to wedge it underneath. As she finally popped it inside, the door swung open, taking her by surprise. Reves froze as she craned her neck to see Nash stared down at her through narrowed eyes.

"Are you lost?" he asked her in a snarly tone.

She didn't answer. Instead, her eyes shifted to the folded paper on the floor. Leaning forward, she reached out to snatch it up, but Nash's massive shoe stamped on it, dragging it towards himself.

Reves let out something akin to a growl. "Give it back, asshole!" she demanded as she stood to her feet.

"Well, now. Those are some lovely, choice words, considering the position you're in at the moment." He bent down to pick up the paper from under his foot.

"And what's in it for you?" Reves sneered.

"Ratting you out?" He smirked at her. "Well, you see, that's where the problem lies. If I snitch on you, I'm basically throwing my best friend out of the frying pan and into the fire. And well, I'm not going to do that shit."

Reves glared at him in bewilderment? Was he fucking high? Then why was he acting like he had something over her?

"So, take your little note," he said thrusting it at her, "I didn't know this was fucking seventh grade – and take yourself on."

Staring daggers at him, she practically slapped his hand as she snatched it back.

"And don't worry. I don't need to read it to know what it says. Probably something along the lines of _'Meet me in the utility closet'_ or some shit like that."

"Bastard," Reves lamented through gritted teeth as she hustled away. Could she just punch him already? Please?

* * *

Nash shut the door after the girl left. "Fuck me," he muttered. These Calaway sisters were driving him absolutely out of his mind. Between Scott's constant hard-on for that mouthy little mite and the other one practically falling into his lap at every other turn, it was like he couldn't escape them.

"Who was at the door?" Scott asked coming out of the bathroom and pulled Kev from his thoughts.

Nash momentarily contemplated lying but figured that wouldn't end well. "Your little trollop. Who else?"

"Don't call her that," Scott said defensively.

"Ohhh. Well, let me move aside while you defend her honor," Kevin mocked.

"Just shut up, you prick! I don't know why you've been such an asshole lately. You jealous or some shit?"

"What, is your name Jesse now?" Kev asked, referencing the song about a guy wanting his best friend's girl. "Go talk to Kid about that shit."

"Talk to me about what?" Sean asked as he entered the room after making a run to catering.

"It's about the beer, Kid," Kevin said, pulling some shit out of his ass, staring at Scott through narrowed eyes.

"But I didn't drink it all!" Kid stated in confusion.

Scott shot back the glare at Kev. "We know, Kid. Kev is just being an ass as of late," he said before exiting the room.

They both knew it was best to keep Kid in the dark about this, as he may inadvertently spill the beans.

* * *

Heather clutched the folder in her hands as she carried herself hastily down the hall. As she drew closer, her stride slowed. The hesitation was beginning to overtake her resolve.

She rounded the corner, stopping in her tracks. Down the corridor was Reves, speaking with Scott Hall. A peculiar sort of beam played on her face. It was a visage Heather had only witnessed when she was in the company of her former boyfriend, Erik. What an absurd notion! Heather thought shaking her head.

In the next instant, her heart leaped against her chest and she released a gasp. Her eyes could not believe the sight that unfolded before her! Reves, her sister, had ferociously locked lips with Scott Hall before they stumbled into what appeared to be a utility closet! This had to be some sort of figment of her imagination, some delusion of grandeur because there was no way in Hades this was reality.

Heather stood, staring into the space they had once been occupying before her wits returned to her. Cautiously, she backed away until she could steal around the corner again. From there she made a break swiftly back to Mark's room. Heather was utterly stunned and perplexed by the scene that had taken place before her. A knot tightened in her stomach as a wave a nausea swept over her.

* * *

Heather sat in Mark's locker room overanalyzing the account she had just witnessed. Or was she? No. How could that be? Her sister had pressed herself upon Scott Hall like some sort of savage and he capriciously reciprocated her advance. The image replaying in her mind's eye brought a flush to her face. She couldn't even begin to fathom what may have occurred once that door closed behind them. This shed a light on many musings, but did Heather have the courage to confront her on the matter?

Before any other questions could be posed, her sister burst through the door with a bang. Her platinum locks were tussled wildly and a Cheshire grin stretched across her face.

"Hello," Heather squeaked, finding it difficult to look upon her directly.

Reves notice something rigid in her sister's demeanor. As shy and awkward as she was, it was rare for Heather to avoid eye contact with her. "What's with you?" Reves wasted little time in getting an explanation.

Heather was not practiced in lying, especially to her sister. "Um, I – of course, it's not like I followed you or anything – but I saw you s-speaking with…you know h-who."

"Who? Voldemort?" Reves groused.

"No. It was you know…" Heather's voice was getting quieter as she spoke. "Scott Hall…"

Reves smirked in her usual, nonchalant manner. "What's wrong? Jealous?"

"For Heaven's sake! N-no!" Heather exclaimed, wishing her face was not flaring as it were. How could her sister insinuate such an absurd prospect? Silence fell over her as her mouth went dry making it difficult to swallow the lump in her throat. "I…I witnessed you doing more than speaking with him…"

Reves's face clouded over as the smirk instantly faded. "Yeah, and what would that be, _pray tell_?" She kept the steady cadence to her voice; it was an adept skill for her.

"Y-you…never mind. It was nothing, really," Heather smiled apprehensively, but her sister wasn't buying what she was selling for a second.

"You saw what?"

"Nothing. I told you..." the younger girl's voice trailed off.

"You saw me kiss him, didn't you?" Reves pursed her lips. She wasn't sure if she should be pissed at her sister for following her or pissed at herself for being so reckless.

Heather didn't utter a word but her stanch posture said all Rev needed to know.

"Well, looks like you caught me with my pants down. You gonna go tattle to Daddy now?"

"N-no. What are you doing with him?"

"We've been hooking up, ok!"

"Do you mean…intercourse?" Heather exclaimed in a dreadful tone.

"Yes. Getting it on. Banging. Fucking. Whatever you wish to call it!"

"You… can not be sincere!" Heather expressed in a state of panic. "I can't believe you would do such a thing. Why?" Her sister demanded with wide-eyed innocence.

"Because it's fun. That's why," Reves stated, matter of fact. "Someday, you'll learn all about it. If you ever stop being such a prude, that is.

A prude? Heather sat there in disbelief. What had happened to her sister? She was certainly rebellious and challenging, but how could she involve herself into something so imprudent and dangerous? "Rev, you know if Dad finds out…" her voice failed her, not even wanting to imagine what their father would do if he discovered their discourse.

"Oh, don't worry. I'm sure you will probably want to go blabbing to him as soon as he gets back. But I'm begging you. Keep your mouth shut." Reves pleaded sitting beside her. "Besides, I'm an adult. I mean, I can do whatever I want, really. Dad just likes to get his panties in a bunch for no good reason."

"Rev," Heather stared at her with glassy eyes. She was still struggling to process this new revelation.

Reves took Heather's hands in hers. "Promise me," she commanded.

Their eyes met in a mutual understanding although Heather couldn't comprehend the slightest bit of this ordeal.

"I promise," Heather squeaked against any better judgment she may have had. Heather's loyalty was unwavering without a doubt and to a fault. It was the bond they shared that compelled her to make the promise. Despite this fact, she feared her sister had placed herself in grave danger that neither of them could even begin to comprehend.


	23. Chapter 23

**Hey, everyone. How are you hold up through this ordeal? It's been crazy, right?**

**Anyway, thanks to Idcam for the review. **

**This and the next chapter were supposed to go all together. Unfortunately, I got carried away, as usual. :/ So, look for the next part (hopefully) soon.**

**Kind of heavy stuff in this chapter. Fair warning.**

* * *

Even though it had been less than a week since Reves had been able to get her hands on Hall, she was becoming quite irritable. Lucky for her, that was about to be remedied very soon. They had finally pestered Mark to the point of insanity and he had acquiesced to allow then to see a movie.

Mark had begrudgingly agreed to let them go. He certainly didn't like the notion of them paling around town themselves, but it was wearing him out to be constantly keeping tabs on them. He felt that he was running out of options to keep them content and satisfied. He was certainly doing the best he could. He was just too busy with work to entertain them all the time. He was starting to think, maybe if they had a little fun, they wouldn't get up to all the shenanigans that pissed off Vince.

There was a busy morning and afternoon ahead for Mark. He was going to get a workout in, then he was going to help some of the trainees while he was in town.

"Alright, we're going," Reves grinned as she came out of the bathroom with flawless makeup.

Mark looked at her. It seemed a little odd for her to be so made up for a movie, but he was passing the point of wondering just what went on inside the girl's head. "So, you have the extra room key I gave you, right?" Mark asked Reves. "And both of you have your phones? I expect one of you to answer when I call."

"Yes, and yes," Reves responded impatiently.

"Stay together and don't go galivanting all over God's green Earth. Understood?"

Reves resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Got it."

"Yes, sir," Heather nodded compliantly.

With that, the girls left the room and started down the hall towards the elevators.

"Don't hate me, but I'm not going to the movies," Reves informed Heather, sounding only half remorseful at that.

"What do you mean?" Heather questioned.

Reves pressed the button for the down arrow on the wall near the elevator. "I'm sorry. I have another engagement, dear sister."

"What on Earth is that?" Heather asked in bewilderment.

"You see, I have an arrangement with Mr. Hall and I just can't afford to pass it up," She said with an air of importance that was filled with sarcasm.

"You're ditching me?" Heather accused as the elevator doors opened.

"Now, I wouldn't put it that way. But I have to take my opportunities where I find them. You understand?" Reves gave and odd curtsy and backed into the elevator.

"Wait!" Heather cried out, but not before the doors had closed on her. Frantically, she mashed the panel on the wall and waited impatiently for it to return. Once it did, she stepped inside and expelled an anxious sigh. She had an uneasy feeling about all of this. Not only was she abandoned in favor of Scott Hall, but now she was on her own. Now, what would she do? She couldn't go back to the room. Her father would be furious.

Why was Reves behaving in this manner? Her sister's wild streak was well known, but these antics were downright reckless. What if some sort of harm came to her? The most disparaging part was that Reves should have been well aware of the consequences should anything go ire, yet she didn't seem to care one bit.

* * *

Kevin sauntered into the little hole-in-the-wall diner. This seemed as good a place as any to pass some time. His partners in crime were missing in action. Nothing too unusual for Kid. He often stayed in the room or in some cases home of whoever he was hooking up with that night. Scott was the one who was becoming increasingly scarce as he was being sucked further into the precipice of this ludicrous affair.

"Hey, Hun. Welcome in. Sit anywhere ya like," a woman said to him in passing.

Kevin nodded in her direction and began approaching an empty table. He took a seat and after a moment, his eyes began scanning the vicinity. His gaze was drawn to a petite girl with violet-ebony hair, sitting in a booth by herself. He watched her for a couple of minutes, expecting Mark to join her.

It didn't take long for him to conclude that she was solitary; evident by the forlorn expression she wore. She sat with her menu open flat on the table and a book in her hands, but she didn't seem to possess the ability to focus on either of them by the way her eyes stared vacantly at a random spot on the table.

Without further thinking, Kevin got up from his seat and wandered over to where the lonely girl was sitting. "So, where's that other Grady twin?"

Heather's head snapped upward at the sound of his voice. She had been so engrossed in her own contemplation; she had not even taken notice of his gigantic figure until he had spoken. "Excuse me?"

Nash was actually a bit surprised when she stared up at him with mild agitation due to being broken from her thoughts. "Stephen King. The Shining?" he said.

"Oh, yes," she replied in absent realization and looked away again. However, her gaze was immediately drawn back to him when he took a seat across from her at the table. Her mouth hung open slightly and her doe eyes blinked at him in a manner that would have suggested he had grown a second head.

Unfazed by her reaction, Kevin asked, "So, what's eating you, little one?"

Heather frowned, "It's nothing," she shook her head and then tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, averting her eyes.

"Where's Mark?"

"Working." There was a sting to her voice.

"Where is Reves?"

He struck a nerve. Her countenance clouded over with distress. An expression of confliction glinted over her face before she murmured in a nearly inaudible voice, "C-can you keep a secret?"

"Depends on how much you pay me," Nash quipped lightly.

The joke was lost on the girl for her expression never wavered. She wasn't sure if it was prudent to disclose such intelligence to him, but she had no one else with whom she could confide in. "It concerns my sister, Reves," She paused and her voice was dropping off, "And your friend. Scott…"

Kevin's face fell. Well, shit. Here we go, he thought. "What about them?" He played it off. No doubt she now knew of the little trysts between her sister and Scott.

"Alright folks, sorry 'bout your wait," the waitress approached the table at that moment, giving Kevin what he hoped would be a reprieve from the conversation he wasn't too keen on having.

Kevin and Heather both raised their head to look at the woman. Kevin recognized her as the one who had greeted him as she bustled passed when he first walked in. Her name tag read: Debbie. She was of medium height and build. She wasn't a beauty, nor was she wretched in appearance. Regardless, the toll of years as a server was evident on her face.

"So, what can I – " she paused and stared down at Kevin. "Say, don't I know you from somewhere?" She didn't give him an opportunity to answer before she continued, "I think I seen you on TV. You must be an actor or something." Her gaze locked onto the bulging muscles of his arms. "Wow, you're huge! You know what, you're a pro wrestler, aren't you?" As Kevin was opening his mouth, she started up again, "Now, what's your name? No, don't tell me!"

Nash had already ceased any attempt to get a word in edgewise. For whatever reason, people tended to either clam up or get super chatty when they met celebrities. Chalk it up to nerves, which Nash thought was completely stupid. He slept, ate and took a shit, just like everyone else. Or perhaps that was just her personality? Either way, he decided to just let the woman yammer on.

"Let's see now. Keifer? Nah. Calvin?" The wires in her brain were beginning to connect. "Kevin! Kevin Nash," She pointed a finger at him with a triumphant smile.

Kevin nodded and his mouth stretched into a thin smirk.

"Yeah, Big Sexy," she eyed him coyly.

Heather felt the heat creep across her cheeks when the woman mentioned the absurd moniker. She could hardly recall an instance in her young life where she regarded a person as _sexy, _but she could agree when people saw an aura of charm radiating from the goliath.

Debbie focused her attention on Heather momentarily as if only then remembering she was there. She took the girl in, then turned to Nash. "I didn't know ya had a kid. You look much too young for that. You two must be on some sort of daddy/daughter date?"

Kevin sat slack-jawed at the woman's assumption. He didn't really have any plausible explanation as to why he was sitting across from this teenage girl, so he nodded curtly.

"Huh, she doesn't look a thing like ya," Debbie glanced at her again with a shrug.

Recovering his wits, Nash gave an impromptu answer in order to save face, "Nope. She takes after her mother."

It was true Heather favored Sara more so than Mark. With the exception of his sparkling emerald eyes, which were glazed with shock and disbelief at that moment.

"Well, Mrs. Nash must be a lucky woman."

"She _was_," Nash shrugged.

"Oh," the waitress demurred, though her eyes lit up like a Christmas tree.

Heather's visage ignited into flames as she listened to the discussion taking place. The young girl lowered her head and hid her face in complete mortification. How and why was this occurring? This man, her father? The very idea! And what was his marital status -or lack thereof- any concern to this woman? It was that moment she wished the floor would divide beneath her and swallow her into its abysmal chasm, sparing her this humiliation.

"Look at my mouth, running away with itself, again! Are you folks ready to order?" Debbie asked.

"I believe so," Nash cleared his throat, drawing Heather's attention to him. She gazed at him in astonishment, as if she couldn't phantom that he was actually carrying out this charade. He leaned forward slightly. "Sweetheart?" Why did it feel so satisfying to call her that? He wondered as his chest swelled. He watched as her mantle deepened and he mused that she must be flush all the way down to her toes.

_What the hell, Nash?_ He quickly chased the image from his head.

Heather's heart was beating against her ribcage, wildly. There was something alien within his voice; something she wasn't accustomed to. She could not even recall the last time her father had spoken to her in such an infliction. If she hadn't known any better, she would say it was almost…affectionate?

"You ready?" he asked her gently.

"I…Oh! Y-yes," she squeaked.

They placed their orders and though unaware of the other, were both relieved when Debbie left to put them in.

A moment or two of awkward silence fell between them, but to Nash's chagrin, Heather continued her lamentation as soon as Debbie was out of earshot. "Um, so, concerning my sister and _him_…" The tone in which she referred to Scott made him sound like the evil sorcerer in some fairytale.

"Yeah, what about them?" Kevin inquired again. His voice gruffer than he intended, though she seemed to be too distressed to notice.

"First, you can not disclose this to a living soul," she told him in a hushed tone.

"I don't think-"

"You must promise me," she astounded both him and herself with her bold declaration that carried an edge of desperation.

He wasn't sure what assumptions she had, but he was certainly not the one to beseech in regards to some sort of pledge, still, he acquiesced in order to appease her. "Alright. So, tell me what could possibly be so terrible?" he asked somewhat scathingly. He did not need her confirmation on the situation. He knew exactly where Scott was at that very moment, or at least who he was with.

He witnessed her countenance twist with anxiety as she readied herself to reveal that which implicated her sister and his friend. He waited patiently for words he rather she didn't divulge concerning her knowledge about the two.

Heather inhaled deeply as if it would prepare and fortify her to make her confession. "Reves and Scott…" her inaudible voice trailed off. The troubled appearance on her face intensified. Her green eyes conveyed a doleful expression. "Reves and Scott, they…" Her voice was breaking up, "W-would you mind terribly if I just wrote it down?"

Kevin shrugged his shoulders indifferently in response. Although part of him wished to acknowledge that he already had privy to the pairs' little escapades, so they could move forward, he waited patiently.

Opening her plaid bag, Heather rummaged around for a pen. She procured a small notebook but frowned when she realized every page was covered in scraps of song lyrics or some type of doodling. She would have to suffice to use a napkin.

She shouldered the message with one arm, as if he may be tempted to cheat by copying her test in school. Heather scribbled on the napkin, then promptly folded it over. She placed the pen down and began to slide the napkin slowly across the table.

When Kevin reached out to receive the note, their eyes locked as his enormous hand brushed her delicate fingers. They were like smooth silk under his calloused fingertips. The contact sent a shockwave up her arm along with a sensation that could only be described as her heart exploding in her chest.

Studying the perplexed expression she wore; it took Kevin a moment to conclude it was time to withdraw. The girl retreated from him as if she had been singed by his touch and she averted her eyes rendering him vaguely disappointed that she had severed their gaze.

He shifted his attention to the paper napkin in his possession. Opening it, he studied the tiny, immaculate cursive for a moment before actually reading the message. It read: _Reves and Scott did __it__! _The word _'it' _was underlined three times as if he hadn't the slightest comprehension as to what exactly 'it' was supposed to refer to. He didn't find it surprising that she wouldn't utter the word she needed to say, but was she that mortified that she couldn't even write it? How in the hell did she make it through that Nabokov book?

Heather was caught off guard when he broke into a hearty, robust laughter that rang out through the small diner. Her brow furrowed together as she stared at him in disbelief from across the table. She couldn't comprehend what was so comical. She had just confided in him a dire dilemma and he somehow found hilarity in the conundrum? "I am pleased that you find such amusement within this scenario," she grumbled.

His laughter ceased when he glimpsed the disparagement on her lovely face. His mood sobered when he witnessed her eyes glaze over. "I just don't know what to do," her voice was distraught. "Why would she want to do such a thing?" She looked at him as if he held some sort of explanation as to her sister's actions.

Kevin stared back at her silently. Do you want to know, little girl? Do you really want to know? No. He wasn't going there. His eyes fell down on her handwriting as he reread her words.

In the next instant, searing jealousy directed towards his best friend began to unfurl within his core. Why the hell should Scott be able to stake any claim he wanted with no consequences? Never had he been jealous of his friends in terms of success or hell, even money (although, most would argue that point). But inside he seethed that Scott had taken it upon himself to become entangled with the older sister despite the fact that he had no desires regarding her. That's when the realization struck him. Fuck, he had been envious of Scotty this whole time. Not because he wanted the older girl, but he wanted what they had…

Eyes trained on the bashful creature across from him, he allowed his thoughts to slip to the dark recesses of his mind. Daringly, he contemplated what she would feel like underneath him, her delicate frame baring the gentle pressure of his gargantuan form. He would love her so softly and with such tenderness... Then she would understand her sister's motives, as much as she didn't agree with her actions.

The girl's forlorn expression continued as she glanced at her book, trying to deflect his scrutiny. This bashful creature hid behind books and her useless factoids. She used them as a source of comfort. The girl was blatantly screaming out for attention and affection, but she didn't even know it.

_That doesn't mean you need to be the one to give it to her, asshole, _his conscience reprimanded him. It was like he was dealing with the whole scenario of the angel on one shoulder and the devil on the other and right now he was leaning towards his inner devil.

"Ok, folks, here ya go," Debbie reappeared, placing their order on the table in front of them. "Let me know if there is anything else I can do for you, ok hun?"

Although her head was bent, Heather watched as Debbie laid her hand on Kevin's forearm. She certainly wasn't one to ascertain, but it seemed to her, the waitress' touch lingered a little too long. Longer than she was comfortable with, but she couldn't say why.

Kevin gleaned up at her and gave his thanks. He was trying to be polite but her presence was beginning to annoy him. "I think we're good here," he said, masking the agitation in his voice.

Heather hadn't even had an appetite, to begin with. Now, even less so. She vacuously stared at the chicken sandwich sitting in front of her.

"Not hungry?" Kevin asked, bringing her attention to him.

Biting her lip sheepishly, she simply shook her head and scooted the plate a couple of inches away from her.

Kevin frowned. A time or two, he had seen her put away a decent sized plate for as tiny as she was. So, he wasn't really worried about her starving herself. With everything weighing on her mind at the moment, he understood that she had little interest in food.

"Have you talked to Reves about all this?" he asked, keeping his cool despite the fact that his body was craving her in ways she had no knowledge of. "You know your sister is an adult. There is not really much anyone can do. She's free to make her own decisions."

Somehow, that felt a little harsh even though she had to acknowledge that fact. Just like ultimately this was Scott's ordeal and his mistake to make should everything go to shit. Despite this, he just knew Mark would flip shit if he ever found out. It wasn't that he was a pussy when it came to Mark, but he wasn't a dumb shit either. Mark had stayed with Vince while he and Scott had left for greener pastures that eventually turned into a wasteland. Mark had a hell of a lot of pull these days, while he and Scott where practically in the shitter. He didn't begrudge Mark that, but he didn't want his best buddy getting fucked professionally for a choice he had personally made. He had already been down in a hole since Mania.

"Yes, I understand that. It's just…I don't understand the whole," she paused searching for the correct word, "_allure_ between them." Her head was bent, but he knew that eternal crimson glow was emanating from her features.

He chuckled at her choice of wording. "You have never even kissed someone, have you?" He eyed her coolly. His inquiry was audaciously vulgar and crossed a boundary he shouldn't be anywhere near, but it was more rhetorical than anything. He didn't need to question her to know she was as unadulterated as freshly fallen snow. Her entire aura radiated with innocence and naivety. His eyes gandered at her lush, rosy lips that remained untouched by another's. They were pursed in nervousness and as he continued to look at her, the guilt settled like a lead brick into the pit of his stomach.

"I…wh..that's…" she sputtered fretfully. How brazen was he to ask her such a personal question? Of course, she had never kissed another person. She had barely hugged another individual outside of her family. She knew how much of a loser this made her, especially considering that most girls her age had engaged in much more than that. Her face morphed into a disparaged frown. She could only imagine how lame he must think she was. She didn't want him to think of her as lame though she couldn't imagine how it really mattered. He was charming and handsome…and she was just this puerile little girl. She reprimanded herself, confounded by the notion. Exactly how was he to see her?

"N-no. I have not…" She sighed in a shameful tone, not daring to meet his eye. What was it like? She unexpectedly yearned to enquire to him, although she knew she would only humiliate and depredate herself if she ever posed such an inquiry. Why had such erratic musings entered her processes as of late? She had read countless books and seen plenty of films depicting the intimate and lascivious act. Largely, she had been disgusted and mortified by such displays, but primarily, it was not an item of concern for her. Interestingly enough, the past couple of months had piqued her inquisitiveness. What did people experience in those moments? How did it affect then and how did it make them feel?

As she sat there pondering her musings, the words abruptly tumbled from her mouth before she could even grasp the question she posed. "What's it like? J-just the k-kissing part. Not the other…stuff." The words were utterly bizarre coming from her lips and she wasn't sure who was more dazed. Was it herself or Kevin as he stared at her with wide eyes? "I'm sorry. That was completely impertinent of me." She demurred. Her stomach twisted. She had gone and made an absolute fool of herself. The mortification was almost too great to endure.

"No. I mean, no more than I was. That was completely inappropriate of me. Forgive me." Even as he spoke, the notion of him being able to show her entered his mind and it ignited a lustful flame inside him. He swallowed hard. He sat in disbelief and disgust that he had been reduced to this, this fucking repulsive creep. As much as he despised himself at the moment, he couldn't help feeding her inquisitive nature. "If you still want to know, it's different for everyone. I mean, I can't really-" He stopped.

Debbie came by one more time, leaving the bill face down near the edge of the table. She didn't say anything but winked at Kevin before clearing away a few dishes and walking away.

Heather picked up the slip of paper. Her gaze fell to the bottom where Debbie's name and a telephone number that most assuredly belonged to the waitress was scribbled. She even placed a heart over the "i" like all those superficial girls in school. Heather couldn't prevent the scoff that left her as she rolled her eyes and returned the check to its prior position. This peculiar emotion was beginning to rise up in her. What was wrong with that woman? Did she truly think- Heather paused. She hadn't felt anything remotely close to this since Samantha Harrison was given the solo in the Fall concert last semester. This was different, however. The intensity was quite unlike anything she had experienced before. She would dare say it was quite disconcerting and a bit frightening.

Kevin gazed at Heather with fascination as an array of emotions swam across her face. Had she just scoffed and rolled her eyes? For a split second, she and her sister seemed to be the same person. He grabbed the bill to see what had caused her such agitation. He released a chuckle when he saw the number, as it didn't surprise him in the least. How would that upset her though? Unless…_Don't be a jackass. Just because you're perving out doesn't mean this girl is thinking anything of the sort._

Heather opened her bag, searching for her wallet. Once she retrieved it, she noticed Kevin placing a credit card down on the table. "What are you doing?" she asked timidly.

"I'm paying the bill," he responded in an obvious tone.

"You don't have to. I have money. My dad gave me-"

"Relax, little one. It's not a big deal," he chuckled at her. "Though, I should spank that ass for not touching a bite." He hadn't recognized that he had verbalized his thoughts out loud until he saw the horror that spread across her face.

Heather stared at him with a mixture of shock and confusion. He would really strike her? Had she angered him that severely? "I-I'm s-sorry," she squeaked, eyes welling up.

The big man stared into her frightened eyes. Good going, jackass. You scared her shitless, he reprimanded himself. He let out a bellowing laugh in spite of himself. "I'm kidding of course. I would never lay a finger on you." Deep down, he knew damn well that was a lie, but he wasn't going to entertain those thoughts at the moment. "I tend to speak in a crass manner, but I don't mean anything by it."

He grinned at her and with his words, the tension abandoned her. He had never given any indication that he would invoke violence against her. How silly and irrational he must think her. She nervously returned a small smile. "I best be returning." Looking at the clock on the wall behind him, she asked with alarm, "Is that the correct time?"

Kevin glanced back, then to his watch. "Yep."

"It's very late. I have to get back to my room!" she announced.

"Okay. Well, let me finish paying and I'll walk you," Kevin said, unfazed by her apparent urgency.

Heather sat there, antsy as she waited for Debbie to come pick up the payment. Taking her mind off her current crisis, she fleetingly pondered whether this was in any manner similar to being on a date. Of course, she had never been on one, so she only had vicarious knowledge. She flushed due to the embarrassment caused by her senseless musings. Certainly, this was nothing like that! She was such a foolish and naïve thing to even entertain such an absurd prospect. The swifter she returned to her room, the better.

As the process completed, Debbie was left with little more than the appropriate gratuity for the work performed and a fading glimmer of hope that something would come of her encounter with the man known as Big Sexy.


	24. Chapter 24

**Thank you morrowsong and Idcam for the reviews.**

* * *

Heather swiftly quit the small diner. Stopping on the sidewalk, she fixed her eyes upon the ominous-looking black clouds above her. She didn't remember the forecast calling for precipitation today.

"Well, shit. Looks like rain," Kevin said as he appeared behind her.

"We should make haste," Heather stated.

A rumble of laughter erupted from the big man. "Ain't much haste in this battered body but sure, we'll try not the get caught in the rain.

Heather glanced up at him timidly before averting her eyes to the ground. She concluded he probably wouldn't appreciate her correction on his improper English – no one ever did - so she started off.

Luckily, her speed made up for his stride and they were able to keep a relatively even pace. However, their fortune had run short when it came to keeping to rain at bay. What initiated as a few sporadic drops, promptly shifted into a torrential downpour of epic proportions.

"Oh, no!" Heather cried as she quickened her pace. Suddenly, she felt a strong hand wrap around her upper arm and pull her into the safety of a nearby store.

"Just hold your horses a minute, Little One," the giant said to her, "You aren't going anywhere."

"Like hell, she's not. You two are both soaking wet. Get the fuck out of my shop!" a grouchy, middle-aged man, who looked like he could be Danny Devito's brother bellowed at them.

Kevin scowled at the man with rage. If not for Heather he would have walked over and punched the guy.

"I'm sorry," Heather muttered. At first, Kevin thought she was speaking to the shop owner but she craned her neck to look up at him. "I-I have to get back!" With that, she burst through the door back into the raging storm. She needed to make it back to the hotel before her father.

"Wait!" Nash called after her. "Fuck me! You're kidding, right?" he growled before giving chase after her.

The rain pelted them relentlessly as they splashed through the puddles that had quickly collected on the ground. The water was soaking through their clothes, seemingly to the bone.

As he closed in on the girl, Kevin questioned why he didn't just let the girl go and deal with her own problem. If she wanted to run through the rain like a madwoman, he should just let her. She was being absolutely ridiculous. For all her smarts, she was being completely asinine right now. He could feel the sharp pain beginning in his knees as he ran after the girl, dodging people and objects along the way.

Just when he thought he had reached her, she sped up further as the hotel came into sight. Sprinting through the doors, she skidded across the slippery tile almost busting her ass before reaching the safety of the carpet. The few people that littered the lobby stopped to stare at her and her face flared as she continued on as disregarded as possible.

As Kevin entered the hotel lobby, he wiped the dripping water from his face, giving him an unobstructed view of the young female waiting to board the elevator. The testy behemoth trudged over to the young girl and glowered down at her. Her eyes flickered towards him in a brief, dread-filled glance. Her breath caught in her lungs and she started to tremble.

The doors opened and Nash held them as he gestured her inside. She didn't meet his gaze but followed the silent instructions. He stepped in afterward and the doors shut, enclosing them within. "What floor?" his deep, bass voice was remarkably composed. Seeing the fear in her eyes had quelled his anger. He wanted to be the usual crab-ass he was when people pissed him off, but she was much too delicate to endure his wrath. She became immobilized with fear if she even suspected someone was irritated with her. Poor thing.

"F-four," she stuttered out through chattering teeth. She folded her arms across her chest as her body shivered in the cool of the air conditioning. They were both as drenched as drowned rats; the water dripping off them, forming puddles under their feet.

Heather watched Kevin remove the hair tie that had been holding his long mane. Bending over, he twisted his hair, wringing out the excess water onto the already damp carpet. As he was returning to his full stature, he performed an overemphasized hair flip, tossing his head back. He finished with a shake of his head, tousling his locks. The corners of his mouth tugged into a slight smirk as he gazed down at her.

The color spread across her features as she bit her lip, attempting to mask the grin playing on her mouth. A bizarre, giddy sensation that was simultaneously wonderful and horrific, permeated within her ribs, giving her an odd sort of warmth. To say that this man was charismatic was grossly understated.

After what seemed like an eternity, the elevator came to a halt and the doors opened, releasing them into the hall. Silently, Heather made a B-line for her room with Nash trailing behind her. She breathed a sigh of relief as she reached for the door handle. It then dawned on her that the room was inaccessible as she wasn't in possession of a room key. "Shit!" The word expelled from her lovely mouth in aggravation and panic.

The large man had never heard that sort of language from the reserved young lady. Her use of profanity caught Nash off guard and he raised an eyebrow at her. "Everything alright?" he questioned.

Heather glanced up at him sheepishly, mortified by her lack of poise. "Reves is in possession of the spare room key," she said in dismay. She took off her small backpack. The contents were slightly damp but likely salvageable. She rooted around to find her cell phone. It seemed to have been protected from any substantial amount of moisture. On the downside, however, it was dead. She must have neglected to charge it. "What am I going to do?" she inquired with apprehension.

"Come on. You can call Mark from my phone," Kevin told her.

Heather shook her head. "I can't. If my father learns that Rev disregarded his instructions the consequences could be dire."

Kevin paused, looking down at her. He doubted that very seriously, although, he had to admit, he admired her persistence and loyalty. Additionally, he could identify with her urge to protect her sister. It was the same sentiment he had towards his friends who were like brothers to him. Her sister had ditched her and she still wanted to cover for her.

"Listen, you gotta at least get out of those soaking wet clothes," he told her firmly as his eyes fell on her lips that were actually becoming tinted blue. Never mind her tiny body that was shivering and shuddering. "You can call the front desk from my room to have them unlock the door." Not giving her the opportunity to protest, he began guiding her in the direction of his room in the same manner he had led her to the car the other night.

Moving up one floor, they reached Nash's room. He unlocked the door and let them inside.

Heather stopped, her large doe eyes staring up at him, curiously.

"You can use the bathroom," Kevin told her, pointing to the doorway. "There are some towels in there. He turned away to pull some dry clothes from his suitcase.

Heather stood there, silently waiting for him to acknowledge her again. He looked at her peevishly as if to ask, _why are you still here_?

"Um…" she squeaked.

"Um, nothing. Now, get in there and get out of those clothes before you make yourself sick," he said in a firm yet gentle tone.

Sighing, Heather found her feet shuffling towards the bathroom. When she reached the threshold she halted and turned. "I…" Kevin had already removed his shirt and the sight had taken the words from her mouth. She found her gaze drawn to his bare chest as her eyes followed the beads of water from his hair running down the smooth flesh. A flame ignited on her face, though she hadn't the slightest comprehension as to why. She saw shirtless wrestlers every day. It was all part of the agenda.

Her attention didn't go unnoticed by the giant who took the opportunity to scold her playfully, "Don't look at me like that. I'm not some piece of meat," his voice thundered.

With wide, terrified eyes, Heather gasped. "I…s-sorry!" She closed the door behind her so quickly it produced a bang as it slammed shut.

Kevin frowned on the other side. He seemed to have frightened her. As much as he wanted to, she was much too skittish and timid for teasing.

Heather stood in the middle of the bathroom, pondering how on Earth she could have gotten herself into such a predicament. What had she been thinking, bolting through the rain like a fool? To cover for her sister? To obey her father? That certainly worked finely in her favor. Here she was holed up in this man's bathroom drenched and in a terrible conundrum.

She took a step, feeling the water seep from her high tops like it was being wrung from a sponge. Her sodden clothes clung to her skin and her body shivered with chills. Every moment of this day since she had looked up to see Nash staring down at her in the diner had been utterly humiliating. The challenged she now faced: she couldn't very well remain in this bathroom forever, as much as she wished that were the case. More pressing, what was she to clothe her body in? She sat on the edge of the tub, feeling overwhelmed and defeated.

Glancing around the tiny room, she noticed a white bathrobe hanging from the back of the door. It was not what she would classify as an ideal solution, but it would have to suffice. She sat staring at the drape of cloth another few minutes, not overly eager to quit her hiding place.

She wasn't certain of the amount of time she had been locked away in there, but she knew the time was drawing near for her to make her appearance. She sighed heavily and reluctantly reached for the laces of her Chucks.

Kevin sat on the edge of the bed. He had put on a simple wife beater and gym shorts. His damp hair was pulled back into a ponytail. The little girl had been in the bathroom for quite some time. He wondered if she was alright. Perhaps she had died of embarrassment as a result of his teasing? Guilt then settled over him. He shouldn't have been so flirtatious with her.

Kevin heard the door handle turning behind him, followed by the slow creak of the door hinges. He stood and turned. Her head was poking out of the doorway. Her hair was twisted up in a towel on top of her head like a turban. "Hey, I didn't mean…" His voice fell off as the bashful creature emerged from the bathroom, clad in nothing aside from a bathrobe.

Nash stood slack-jawed as they stared at one another from across the room. It hadn't dawned on him until this moment that she had no clothes to change into. That's what she was trying to let him know as she was protesting. God, he was a jackass!

"I…I haven't any clothes to wear," Heather whispered, stating the all too painfully obvious. Breaking away from his scrutinizing gaze, she turned her head. She held the robe shut tightly with one hand at her neck. The giant continued to stare at her, causing her to feel even more apprehensive. Had she made some sort of mistake by appearing like this when she had no other choice?

For once, Nash truly didn't know what to do or say. She was most assuredly naked beneath that robe and she was obviously mortified and humiliated. His contrition was probably the only thing preventing an erection from pitching a tent inside the thin fabric of his shorts. Should he offer her a tee-shirt? Something? His body went on edge. Yeah, because that's what he needed; to see her in one of his own shirts, draped over her tiny frame like a dress while the neck hung off her milky shoulder. His mind painted a very vivid picture for him and he stifled a groan. This was beyond fucked up. How the hell did he keep getting himself into these situations? He kept sticking his nose where it didn't fucking belong, that's how.

Shaking free of his thoughts, he told her, "You can use the phone to call the front desk." He pointed at the phone on the nightstand by the bed where he stood.

"Thank you," she muttered incoherently, eyes still fixed on the floor. She moved slowly around the bed. They both halted as he tried to step to one side to let her pass. She stepped in the same direction, awkwardly blocking herself.

They both shuffled themselves again, to the same result. Gently grasping her shoulders, Nash slowly spun them around so she now had access to the phone. Her mouth stretched into a thin smile before she turned towards the phone.

Heather slowly picked up the receiver and hesitated a moment before punching the speed dial for the front desk. After informing the receptionist of her issue, she was met with the response that although housekeeping was in possession of a master key, they were not permitted to unlock rooms for guests in these circumstances. Only the manager had that authority and he had left for lunch.

"Yes. 217. Fourth floor," the young girl demurred. "I thank you kindly. You've been most helpful." Heather returned the receiver with a click. She turned to look at Kevin and was a little surprised to see him sitting near the foot of the bed. "Well, um…" she stopped as she started to rock back and forth on her heels.

"Yes?" Nash urged her on.

"It appears that the hotel manager is the only individual with the authority to unlock the room. Unfortunately," she paused adjusting her glasses, "he is currently out to lunch and should return in approximately forty-five minutes to one hour." She glanced at him before shifting her head awkwardly.

"Well, alright then," the big man said, eyes trained on the young girl. This wasn't doing anything to help his psyche, spending the next sixty minutes gawking at her. "Have a seat," he gestured to the bed. "No point in standing there for the next hour."

Heather couldn't argue that point and slowly sunk down at the head of the bed. Having nowhere to cast her gaze, she fixed her eyes on the bedspread. After a moment, she glanced at him. "I'm so terribly contrite about all of this," she mumbled in earnest. "I possess this foolhardy tendency to panic when I become apprehensive.

Kevin looked at her rigid posture, her hands resting on the lap of the white terrycloth. She had been - as she put it – foolhardy, but although his knees currently felt as if they had taken a couple of shots from a sledgehammer or a chair, his only regret was having to gander at her tiny frame sheathed in little more than a towel. His gaze lingered on her a moment longer before he spoke. "It's okay. You were worried about your sister. I admire that type of loyalty, to be honest."

A pink glow spread across the girl's face. "A fair amount of good that has done me, I suppose. She prefers to spend her spare time in the company of Scott."

"That upsets you deeply, doesn't it?" He knew it was a rhetorical question. He just wasn't sure of a response at the moment.

"Yes, it does," she said with surprising conviction. The next instant her eyes became downcast, and she lost it. "We used to do everything together. Now, it seems she is just another person I am driving away."

Her eyes became glassy, and he silently begged her not to cry, as his guilt compounded. This poor girl clearly had some type of abandonment issues going on and here he was, practically undressing her with his eyes. Who the fuck would do that, other than some perverted creep? He was becoming more disgusted with himself with every passing moment he spent in her presence. "You don't drive people away," he said shaking his head, "You have tons of people who care about you."

"I am not so certain about your assertion, but thank you."

"Well, I'm sure I almost blew my knee out chasing after you," he said with more gruffness to his voice than he had intended. His own words hit him like a punch to the gut.

Fortunately for him, she didn't seem to read into any intended meaning on his part. She only frowned at him. "I'm very sorry. I never intended to have you rushing after me. Also, do forgive me if I am disturbing you."

_Hell yes, you're disturbing me! I've been pretty fucking disturbed by my thoughts as of late_, he wanted to divulge to her. "You're not disturbing me," he told her gently.

Heather wasn't entirely convinced that she wasn't encroaching on him. "I don't wish to be a burden to you. You truly have no obligation to look after me."

"I know that. I was concerned for your safety," He ignored his conscience asking him if he could keep her safe from himself.

"And I thank you for that, but I don't wish to hassle you any longer. I can wait in the hall, by my room." She stood, ready to leave. There was a perturbed sense of uncertainty growing inside her. Her mind recalled his previous statement. Had he insinuated that he cared for her in some small measure? She must be daft.

"Don't be ridiculous. You're not going to wait in the hall for some jabroni to come unlock your door. She had already proceeded to begin walking towards the door. He groused, "And in a bathrobe, no less."

Just as she had passed him, Kevin grasped her wrist, gently tugging her back. As the unexpected force yanked at her small body, her foot caught on his. She expelled a tiny yelp as she felt herself falling backward. Her petite frame inadvertently deposited right in the behemoth's lap as her hands clasped the fabric stretched over his muscular chest.

His arms had caught her awkwardly, one hand supporting her back. With their faces mere inches apart, their gazes locked on one another. His body stiffened as his brain processed the featherweight pressure on his lap. "Be careful," his voice was low and gravelly. He was honestly uncertain as to whether he was speaking to her or himself.

His voice was like smooth silk against bare skin. Heather's heart was already thrashing against her ribcage like a battering-ram and her stomach felt as if it were performing somersaults.

It went without stating that Nash's disposition was in no way improved upon. He had been attempting to drive the thought of this girl from his head for the past few days. Now, here she was, naked as a jaybird under that robe, sitting in his lap with her tiny hands on his chest. If that wasn't the definition of irony, he didn't know what was. Staring into her eyes, they sparkled like a pair of emeralds as a myriad of emotions and questions were reflected back towards him. His hand drifted gingerly down her back as if guiding the shiver that ran down her spine. She bit her lip and adjusted her hips ever so slightly. Her subtle movement caused his member - which he had been willing with every ounce of power to stay dormant – to lurch, beginning to spring to life. He stifled a groan as her eyes narrowed in bewilderment, then promptly widened with shock and a small gasp escaped her lips.

"I'm sorry! I…" She broke the gaze as she sprang up as if she had just come to the realization that she had been sitting on a pile of hot coals. Tripping over him again, she nearly fell to the floor.

Heather sat on the bed avoiding his eye. The towel that was fixed on her head had become loose and was starting to unravel as it sat lopsided. The young girl was taken back when he closed the gap between them and an enormous hand reached out for the large rectangle of cloth. It was gently pulled it from her hair, allowing the dark tendrils to cascade down her back and shoulders.

Mercy. She was a sight, her long hair falling everywhere while her cheeks were painted pink, glowing against her alabaster skin. He dropped the towel beside them on the bed and his hand was brought to her damp hair, his lanky fingers combing through her silky strands. His actions drew another shudder from her small frame. Her chest locked up as a foreign sensation coursed through her.

"You're just a bit gawky, aren't you?" he chuckled, teasing her tenderly, unable to help himself.

"I-I have terrible equilibrium," she murmured.

Kevin merely smirked at her as his fingers continued to toy with her locks.

Curiously, she found herself leaning into his touch as something unnamable was beginning to take root in her. Her scalp tingled each time his digits buried themselves in her hair.

With one last stroke, his hand left her tresses and carefully grasped her chin, lifting her face toward his, forcing her gaze upon him. Her heart stopped, then it was racing at warp speed the next instant. She couldn't endure his excruciating stare, nor could she look away.

His thumb delicately traced the smooth, lush flesh of her lips. They trembled under his touch and parted slightly, in awe of his conduct. So perfect and pure, her chaste lips beckoned for his to impart their wisdom to her.

He leaned into her, only vaguely astounded that she rightfully smelled like the pages of a brand new book. He smirked slightly and stared at her with an expression of hunger painted in his hazel eyes. "Just for the record…" his bass voice conveyed a husky, sensual timber that caused Heather's breath to hitch and her stomach to tighten. His lips approached dangerously close to hers. Just as he was about to lay claim to her virgin mouth, an infernal ringing sounded throughout the room, startling the bashful girl. She jolted and Nash pulled back slightly.

She continued to stare at him for a moment, remaining dazed. Kevin's visage displayed both shame and disappointment, which was reiterated in his infliction when he spoke. "It's the phone, Little One," he said, his cadence languid and subdued.

Pulling out of her daze, Heather blinked and the spell was broken. "Oh!" she gasped, leaping up from the bed. She turned towards the nightstand and grabbed the telephone receiver. "H-hello?" she mumbled breathlessly as her heart was still racing. She listened to the caller on the other end, and when the call was completed, she thanked them and hung up.

Heather slowly spun around, not meeting his eyes. "Th-the manager has returned early," she paused. Just their proximity had been too great to process at once, let alone his actions thereafter. "H-he will be present, within a few minutes to unlock the door," she whispered.

"Okay," was all Kevin said with a nod. She refused to look at him and to his chagrin, he had to confess, it somehow stung.

Heather gathered her clothes from the bathroom in silence and set off to her own room.

Kevin accompanied her to ensure she reached her destination unharmed.

He was glad he had done so, for, at first glance, the manager seemed taken back by Heather's odd attire. Having seen sights far more bizarre, he shrugged and proceeded with his duty. Before inserting the key, however, he stopped and took a gander at the girl, his eyes raking over every line underneath her robe.

"Ahem," Nash cleared his throat in his gravelly tone. He was standing back, now glowering at the man with his jacked arms folded over his broad chest.

The man swallowed hard and continued his task. He pushed the door open for her. "Here we are," he said, nervously, "If you need anything el-"

"No. Thank you!" The young girl blurted out as she bolted inside the room, allowing the door to slam shut behind her. She knew she had been quite discourteous to both men, but her every sense at present, was too overwhelmed.

Dropping her belongings right on the floor where she was standing, she flung herself on the bed and buried her flaming face into a pillow. Her heart pounded as she recounted the events that had lately transpired. She felt herself smile against the plush cushion as her eyes began to sting from tears.

She lifted her head. Had that been an illusion? Had he tried to…to…kiss her? Her emotional antithesis was leaving her feeling conflicted. On the one end, she was relieved for the interruption of the telephone. On the other, she was crestfallen. The sensations he instilled within her were like nothing she had ever experience before; akin to floating.

Thinking of how closely their bodies met, left her with a hollow cavity within her chest as she yearned for something she had never known. None of the boys at school had ever sparked an interest in her in such a manner. Consequently, this man was probably twice her age. Was she some sort of freak? Surely, she had to be. Fear and doubt began to take root inside her. Perhaps, what had transpired between them was a grand delusion she had fabricated? Yet, he had touched her and their lips were merely a breath apart. This was all exponentially bewildering.

She wasn't afforded much more time to ponder this as Reves burst through the door. Her breath came out in heavy pants. "Dad's not back?" she asked. Heather only shook her head. Reves looked at the pile of damp clothes on the floor. "What happened to you? You get caught in the rain?"

"No thanks to you," Heather muttered disparagingly as she got up from the bed. She approached her suitcase and retrieved a set of dry clothes. She kept her face turned away and hidden as she felt her visage would betray her.

"I never told you to go out in the rain," Reves shrugged, refusing to be blamed for her sister's foolery.

"You- Never mind," Heather groused before taking her fresh garments and heading towards the bathroom. She wasn't in an emotional state to argue futilely with her sister.

* * *

Having returned to his room, Nash paced the floor like a caged animal. He was reeling from his exploits. What had he been thinking? He had almost kissed the girl, for Christ's sake! He had gone from lewd fantasies to trying to take advantage of her. She probably found him fucking revolting. Evidently, she couldn't wait to get away from him when she ran into the room without so much as a goodbye.

He attempted to shake himself from this self-loathing state. Why the hell was this happening to him? She was nothing more than a silly kid, but he craved her deep within his core.

Kevin sat down on the bed, rubbing his temple. He couldn't do it. He desired the girl in more ways than he could count, but he would ruin her. He was a scoundrel and a reprehensible prick. Hard as he might try, he would crush her delicate soul and kill the dim light that was left in her eyes. Not to mention, Mark would literally murder his ass.

He couldn't risk another episode like this. He had to ignore and steer clear of her as much as possible. Simply act like she didn't exist. Then these lustful feelings would pass and things would go back to normal. At least, that is the lie he used to pacify himself.

* * *

**Well, that escalated quickly. Let's see if Nash's plan works out for him.**


	25. Chapter 25

**Hey everyone. Sorry it's been about a month since the last update. I've really been trying , but it's been a little slow. I apologize this chapter is not eventful, but will be setting up for some things. **

**Thank you to morrowsong and Idcam for the reviews on the last chapter.**

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Arriving at the arena the next afternoon, Mark and the girls were met by Glen as they made their way to Mark's locker room. "Hey, buddy. How's it going? Girls," Glen nodded at the sisters.

"Not bad. What's up, man?" Mark asked as he shook Glen's hand.

"Not much with me. Vince wants to see you when you get settled. He wants you to bring the girls with you," the other man replied.

Mark's eyes narrowed as his fist tightened around the strap of his duffle bag. What the hell had they done now? "Did he say why?" Mark's voice was gruff.

Glen held his hands up as if in surrender. "Hey dude, don't shoot the messenger. You know Vin Man gives the orders and we follow. All I know is he wanted to see you all. Anything beyond that, your guess is as good as mine."

"It's cool," Mark said, though his expression was hard as stone as he stared down at his daughters with steely eyes. "I'll drop my gear off. Then we'll go to Vince and there won't be any more surprises." He glanced at Glen before giving and accusatory stare at the girls.

"I swear, I haven't done anything," Reves proclaimed. She was already out of patience in regards to a meeting with the Chairman.

'"Like I said, I guess we'll find out soon enough. Won't we?" His look hardened as he spoke to her. He then turned to Glen, " I'll catch up with ya, man. What's on the card for tonight?"

"We got a tag match. Guerrero and Benoit," Glen answered.

"Alright. We'll go over some spots after I talk to Vince."

"Cool. See ya later," Glen nodded and parted ways from the three of them.

Mark released something between a sigh and a growl. "I don't know what this is all about, but girls, you better pray. Both of ya," Mark told them as they continued on to his dressing room.

* * *

Heather grew more apprehensive the closer they drew to Mr. McMahon's office. They hadn't made any transgressions against him that she could recall. She had even increased her efforts to circumvent his presence following the roller skating incident. The issues of her performing in the hall were simply ill timing.

They arrived at the door marked as Mr. McMahon's office. Mark knocked on the door with a meaty fist. His raps resulted in such crashing thuds that had the sisters not known better, they would assume he was aiming to pound the door in. Or perhaps he was.

"Come in!" the thundering voice called from the other side. "Good. Mark," Vince said, looking up from the scripts on his desk as they entered. "Young ladies," he nodded towards the sisters. "How are you?"

"What's this about, Vince?" Mark asked, wanting to cut to the chase.

"We'll get to that in just a moment. Have a seat." Vince gestured to the chairs positioned in front of his desk.

Mark appeared to be exasperated but flopped down on the metal folding chair, flanked by his daughters on either side.

"Now Mark, you know I don't care for things and people who waste time and aren't productive," Vince began, leading Mark to wonder why he was pussyfooting around the point then. "Over the past couple of months, your daughters have been traveling with you. I've let them in the arenas. They can interact with talent. They get the VIP treatment, really."

_Ha! If that wasn't a crock. Especially coming from someone like Vince McMahon,_ Reves thought.

"I've given a lot, and I have no obligation to do so. Mark, the problem is this," he paused as if he was attempting to be tactful - a skill he was not famous for, "these girls have become a major distraction and a nuisance for many people backstage."

Mark breathed a heavy sigh as he toyed with his goatee. So he was giving them the boot. He had to admit, he wasn't surprised in the slightest. Perhaps -if he were honest - a little relieved as well. He knew it was inevitable given their antics and Vince's disdain for idle behavior. If anything did surprise him, it was that Vince had tolerated them this long.

"I don't like distractions and I don't like indolence. Therefore, I intend to remedy that straight away," Vince proclaimed.

The sisters' eyes met in a brief dread-filled glance. It seemed they were done for, without a doubt.

Panic began to stir inside Heather. If they were to return home, would her parents force her to resume her high school torment? She was still painstakingly coming to grips with everything that had transpired during that time.

For all her indifference, Reves possessed her own concerns. She was still very much entrenched in her entanglement with a tall, dark and handsome bad guy. She was not ready to terminate their little affair just yet.

"I'm sorry they've caused such problems here, Vince. That was not what I intended when I brought them along," Mark confessed, glancing at each girl in turn. "I'll have them on the next flight out, tomorrow."

"For what?" Vince asked in his gravelly tone.

"I know you don't want them here any longer. And-"

"When the hell did I say that?"

_Every time you look at us_, Reves wanted to remind him.

"Now, wait a minute. Yes, they're a distraction. Yes, they spend a lot of time not doing anything prolific. They've been a huge pain in my ass, quite frankly. But what better way to resolve all that than to instill a little work ethic in them, ey girls?" That flamboyant _Mr. McMahon_ persona was rearing its head as he spoke.

Perplexed, Mark narrowed his gaze at his boss. "What exactly are you getting at here?" Vince was projecting that maddening twinkle from his eyes, which suggested that he was about to propose something completely insane.

"Well, here we have two beautifully vibrant, young ladies. Very fresh-faced and hip-"

"Vince! These are my kids," the larger man interrupted him. "And what the hell is the point of this?"

"The point is obvious, Mark. I want to use them. On TV," Vince stated matter of fact.

The three individuals sat across from the owner stunned. Reves's jaw was on the floor, while a hand came over Heather's mouth.

"You're shittin' me, right?" Mark questioned, astounded.

"No, I'm not. You know I don't kid around when it comes to business," the owner told him almost irritated that he would even enquire.

"They're just kids, Vince. They're not fucking wrestlers or even television talent! I can't let them go out there."

Vince raised an eyebrow. "Can't or won't?" He turned towards Reves. "Sweetheart, how old are you?"

"Nineteen. Sir," Reves replied in her most sickeningly, syrupy sweet tone and batted her thick eyelashes over her baby blues for added effect. She knew McMahon was an old perv, but she didn't mind throwing him a bone from a distance if it would benefit her. He could drool over her if he was going to make her a star. Whatever.

Her conduct didn't go unobserved by her father, who was glowering at her menacingly.

Vince cracked a devious smirk. "Alright. So you are all set to go!" The intimidating man locked his gaze on the dark-haired girl. "And this one. How about you, darling?"

His use of endearment made Heather's skin crawl. She had seen how the majority of the female talent were regarded and truth be told, she wasn't certain she wanted any portion of that. Most of all, she possessed immense stage fright despite her accolades in choir and theater. World Wrestling Entertainment was a different animal altogether.

"She's only seventeen, Vince! God damnit," her father shouted and she was grateful she didn't have to speak to the chairman.

"Alright, Mark. No need to get in a rage," Vince paused momentarily. "Hmmm, so we'll just have to keep her age out of public knowledge for now. When will she be eighteen?"

Heather knew she should have been offended that Mr. McMahon was speaking of her as if she were not present but she only felt relief as Reves interjected, much to their father's chagrin, " She just had her birthday in January."

"Well, no matter," Vince said dismissively as if he had instantly forgotten everything that had been previously stated. "I just want to remind you, Mark, that I did you a tremendous favor by allowing Sara to appear on TV. Hell, she didn't have any experience either and caught on fine after a couple weeks of training. Vince said, looking at the girls expectantly, particularly Heather who was timid as a rabbit.

"C'mon, Vince. If you're really that interested, hell, send them down to development. Don't just throw them into the fucking shark tank!" argued Mark.

"The issue is, I already have a storyline in mind that I'd like to get them started in."

"And what the hell would that be?" demanded the girls' father.

A simper stretched across the chairman's face that could pass for borderline deranged. Out of everything that had been discussed within the past fifteen minutes, not one of the attendees were prepared for the three letters that the so-called _evil genius_ had uttered to them: nWo. The New World Order.

Reves couldn't contain the outburst that followed. "You've gotta be shitting me!" she exclaimed before breaking into a cackle, like a madwoman. Unbeknownst to her father and Vince, her laughter was drenched in delicious irony.

Heather blanched, her already pale face turning a ghostly white upon hearing this dastardly scheme. Her heart stopped, then started again, racing at the velocity of a steam engine. The sound of the blood rushing through her own ears drowned out the sound of her sister's laughter.

nWo. If one had asked her a few months prior, those letters would have been inconsequential. As it were, they were synonymous with a certain seven-foot behemoth. One whose mere existence seemed to render her to a simultaneous state of blithe elation and crippling terror. The only thing that brought Heather out of her headspace was her father's shouting.

"You're off your fucking rocker, McMahon!" Mark bellowed. "If you think I'm gonna let my kids be a part of these bullshit games, you're dead wrong."

"Mark, this is a business. Do you really think I would waste precious, time, money, and resources playing games?" Vince inquired with a sharpness to his voice that suggested he was offended by Mark even insinuating such a prospect.

"This is fucking absurd," Mark announced, leaning back in his chair. "Hall, Nash. Do any of them know about this shit?"

"Not yet. I figured you would react like this, so I wanted to speak with you first."

React was not the word. Mark wanted to lunge across the desk and choke the life from his boss.

"I'm ready. Let's do it!" Reves spouted suddenly.

"No!" Mark growled at her with a belligerent glare.

"No disrespect Mark, but she's of legal age. I can sign her if I damn well please. Now, I'd like the pair of them, but I'll take what I can get," Vince informed him.

Marks face clouded over with a seething rage. He sat there; fists clenched as he glowered at his oldest.

Turning away, Reves couldn't keep the grin from her plush lips. She relished the mere fact that her old man was madder than a hornet and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. Vince wanting to put them to work with Scott Hall and the rest of the boys was the cherry on the sundae. She knew of the professional beef between the kliq and members of the BSK, however friendly they may be in real life.

"It's getting late, I have other business matters to attend to," Vince spoke, drawing their attention to him. "Think it over, Mark. You have a few days off. Talk to Sara and I'll call you the day after tomorrow." That was their cue to be dismissed.

Mark got up abruptly from his chair and stomped through the door silently, his daughters in tow.

"This is going to be so awesome!" Reves gushed as Heather gave a weak apprehensive smile.

Mark abruptly spun around, pointing a finger at them. "Not a word of this to your mother until I talk to her," he commanded.

"Sure thing," Reves smirked.

"Yes, Sir," Heather demurred. This was a very precarious situation and she found it scathingly ironic that not one soul actually asked for her opinion on the matter.

"Mother fucking Vince!" he groused continuing on. He did not need to be burdened with this shit.

* * *

Vince grinned wickedly to himself. He knew he could get Mark to do what he wanted. He was his most loyal employee. He would do just about anything for this business. Just a little coaxing and he'd have everybody where he wanted them.

* * *

When Hall, Nash, and Waltman arrived (late, as per the norm) they were summoned immediately to the boss's office.

"You fucks have done it now. Good going, Kid," Scott teased.

"Me? It's not my fault that guy wanted to beat my ass because his girlfriend's a slut," Sean retorted.

That was the whole reason they were late. Sean had woken up at the chick's house that afternoon, not expecting her unknown boyfriend to come home early from his work trip and flipped shit. Kev and Scott had to come do damage control and back their buddy. How his friends always got themselves into this bullshit, Nash would never know. But he always came to the rescue regardless. They were his brothers. That's what he had to do.

"Well, now we're gonna get it from Vinnie," Scott continued to goad him as they arrived at Vince's door.

McMahon gave them a derisive look when they entered, but he swiftly let it go. Getting the opportunity to put his plan into action was giving him too much pleasure. Vince greeted them, "Gentleman. Glad you could find the time to make it here today."

The three men glanced at one another. Of course, his sarcastic infliction would be present.

"What can we do for ya, boss?" Scott asked as they sat down.

"I like that, Scott. What can you three do for me?" he intoned in his evil boss persona. He chuckled darkly, then returned to his _normal_ self. "It's more of what I have for you all."

Nash felt the muscles in his face twitch as he tried not to let his expression distort in aggravation. If this was anything like the other_ somethings_ Vinnie Mac had to offer, he was positive he didn't want a damn thing to do with it. "So, what is this something?" he asked attempting not to sound hostile.

"I say you men have been going pretty strong. But I just can't help but feel that something is missing."

"Like Hulk?" Nash ventured.

"No." Vince shot him down and Nash's face fell. "What I'm thinking of is a kind of sexy feminine mystique."

The three men exchanged glances, then eyed Vince wearily.

"You mean, Goldust?" Hall quipped with a snicker, leading Kid to join in.

The owner, however, didn't appreciate Hall's joke as evidence by his dour appearance. "No," he said flatly. "I would like not one, but two new additions to the group and yes, they will both be female."

The trio smirked at one another. Now he was talking!

"I'm down for that," Kid declared. "So, who do we get? Maybe Stacy Keibler?"

"Or Torrie Wilson," Nash suggested. She was beautiful -as was Stacy- and he enjoyed working with her in WCW.

"No. Unfortunately, they are both currently involved in storylines that are going quite well. Nothing is set in stone, but the two I have in mind are a little more…_unknown_."

He meant _green_. The men tried to recall who – if anyone- had joined the roster recently. Or perhaps it was a call up from developmental?

"So, who are these chicks, boss?" Scott inquired.

Smiling, Vince delayed his answer a few moments. Partly for dramatic effect and partly because he was trying to recall their names, particularly the dark-haired one. "Reves and Heather Calaway!" Vince declared.

"You've gotta be shittin' me!" Kevin roared like an angry bear, nearly lunging forward from his seat, "Is this a Goddamn rib?"

Vince stared at him humorlessly. "That seems to be the phrase of the day. No, I am not _shitting you_, Kevin. And this is not a rib. I assure you, I am extremely serious," Vince said in a sobering tone.

Nash froze. The two names in the world he least expected to hear had hit his ears. He felt as if someone had punched him in the gut and kicked his feet out from under him because the world was falling away from him. Kevin sat back in the chair, slack-jawed and stunned. This was it. He had waited for this for nearly a decade. Vince McMahon had finally cracked and gone off the deep end.

Kevin eyed Scott within his peripherals. His friend was laboring to mask the smirk on his face as his tongue manipulated the toothpick in his mouth. Kevin was sure his friend was probably sporting a massive hard-on as they spoke.

"Are you sure this is a good call, Boss?" the dark-haired man questioned while feigning protest. They were green, alright. Greener than a wasted leprechaun on St. Paddy's Day. What did he care anyway? They all knew the drill. Most women were there solely based on their looks. There were only a select few who could actually carry themselves as performers in the ring. He would get to work with his little blonde vamp and he could hardly contain himself. He continued to maintain his suave, bad guy image throughout the meeting, but things had just gotten very interesting indeed.

"Wait. Who are they again?" Kid questioned. The names sounded familiar but he wasn't sure from where.

"Taker's kids," Nash informed him in a disgruntled tone. "Speaking of Mark, he's never gonna go for this shit. So, what's the point?" he surmised, turning towards Vince.

Vince nodded in agreement. "Mark's a tough egg to crack. Which is why I spoke with him first. He's not completely sold, but I think he'll come around."

"Not sold?" Kevin retorted. "_I'm _not sold because this is a sack of horse shit! I'm not playing babysitter to a couple of rotten brats being strung along on Daddy's bootstraps."

Kevin felt contrite over his words, but he didn't know how else to react. This fucking ignorant man. Vince thought himself a billionaire genius, and at times, he was. This was not one of those times. These girls didn't belong anywhere near this business as it were. Just throw them out of the frying pan and into the fire. Sure. Why the hell not?

"Well, it's a good thing you are not in control, isn't it, Nash?" Vince sneered, his face contorted in fury.

Kevin ran a hand shakily through his hair. No, he wasn't in control, damnit. So much for his grand scheme to distance himself from the little girl. He couldn't escape this shit. The more he tried to dig himself out, the more he got buried. What the fuck was wrong with the world? Next thing he knew, he'd be teaching her to take bumps and all that shit. Yeah, that's exactly what he needed. Physical contact. Touching her. Showing her how to…motherfuck. His mind had quickly shifted from wrestling for sport to pinning her underneath him and ravishing her oh, so tenderly.

He was repulsed by himself at that moment. Though nothing like he felt last night when he found himself in the shower, jacking his dick as he envisioned the supple body beneath that robe. He knew he had already resolved to push her from his head, but there was a big difference between fantasizing and acting on it, right?

Wrong. He had already fed himself that bullshit line. His only hope was that Mark would say no to this absurd proposition. It would by no means fix his dilemma, but it may make it easier to neglect her existence if he didn't have to work with her in such close proximity.

This was going to blow up in everybody's face. Kevin knew it.

* * *

** I'm not crazy about this chapter, but I needed to insert it for things to come later. Sadly, no interaction between our main ship here. Unfortunately, none in the next chapter either. I know it kind of breaks up the momentum. Please don't hate me too much, kay? Next chapter I will be introducing a 'new' character who didn't appear until the sequel for the original. **


	26. Chapter 26

**Warning: two vulgar terms are used in this chapter. I don't mean anything by it. It's used for the purpose of the story, just be aware.**

* * *

Sara Calaway was not in a pleasant disposition following the bomb her husband had dropped on her during dinner.

"Sara, I did tell the man. He doesn't take no for an answer," Mark tried to explain to his wife for probably the fifth time.

"I know he doesn't. That's because whenever he says jump, you say, _how high, boss_?" Sara mocked him.

"Hey! I ain't nobody's bitch," the giant barked at her.

She only stared at him, not intimidated by his rough attitude. He may be the big dog at work but Sara didn't put up with that. His bark was worse than his bite, really. "We agreed to keep them out of the spotlight. That's why we didn't include them in the angle last year."

"I know that. But you know how Vince is."

"I'm just wondering when -if ever- the Calaways will be just as important as the McMahons to you?" Sara asked pointedly, tossing the dish towel down after drying her hands.

"Oh, don't start that shit," Mark scoffed. "I suppose we should just go back to living in that shit studio apartment? Because it's not like I've been killing myself all these years to give you and the kids a good life."

"There you go with the stuff. The house, the cars. Meanwhile, our kids are trying to kill themselves!"

"You're gonna put that shit on me? You-" Mark stopped.

"Rev, we should go. It's not right to eavesdrop," Heather whispered, pulling at her sister's arm.

Reves shushed her, trying to listen as they stood just outside the dining room that was connected to the kitchen.

"What are you dorks doing?" Their brothers appeared beside them and Reves threw her hands up in exasperation.

The next instant, they heard their father scolding them, "Your mother and I are talking. Get lost."

The teenagers moved into the den and Reves gave a glaring look at her brothers. "Thanks, morons."

"I can't believe Vince is giving you two contracts. What a sack of shit that is," Steven growled.

" Aww, is someone jealous?" Rev asked sardonically. "It's not like you idiots could draw a damn dime."

"You're not gonna draw. You're gonna be a cumdumpster to Vinnie Mac," Marcus retorted.

Heather wasn't entirely certain of the meaning behind such a sordid sounding term, but she knew it was anything but kind. Her assumption was confirmed as she watched her sister's open hand connect to the side of her brother's face with a resounding crack. Heather gasped and her jaw fell open as if it had become unhinged. "Rev!" Heather exclaimed in shock.

Caught off guard, Marcus' head snapped to the side. He whipped his head back, staring daggers at Reves. Breathing like a rage-induced bull, Marcus stepped to the smaller blonde girl. Standing six foot four, the twins where far from small. They were not quite as tall as their father, but he still towered over her. Marcus balled his hand into a fist, raising it to his side slightly.

Reves glanced down at his fist, then blue eyes locked onto green. "I wish you would," she challenged.

Steven appeared beside her and shoved her slightly.

"Ohhh! You gotta gang up on me? Okay, pussies."

"Guys, come on. We really shouldn't be arguing," Heather suggested meekly.

"What the fuck's going on in here?" Mark bellowed as he stood in the doorway menacingly.

"She slapped me, damnit!" Marcus shouted in defense.

"He called me a-" Reves was cut off by her father.

"I don't give a fuck what happened," he yelled, his eyes raking over each of them. "I'm sick of this bullshit. Y'all want to be treated like adults, yet you act like a bunch of Goddamn toddlers. Why don't you get a damn job and pay your own bills, then we'll see how grown you are. Now get out of my sight. All of you."

Reves was the first to storm out of the room. Her face was contorted in a wrathful expression as she muttered obscenities under her breath.

The brothers followed and Heather fell in line last with her head hanging.

"Nice job," Sara imparted scathingly.

"What?" Mark asked, irritated. He was already out of sorts from contending with his wife. He wasn't going to put up with his kids bickering too. "So, now I handled that wrong too?"

She didn't say anything. She only walked away shaking her head.

* * *

A couple of hours had passed since the spat between her siblings. Heather laid on her bed, trying to read but her thoughts repeatedly wondered to the quandary as to whether her father would acquiesce to Mr. McMahon's proposal. Such a situation could lead to various outcomes and scenarios. One guarantee, it would certainly increase the frequency in which she spent time in the presence of the blonde goliath. Her breath hitched and her cheeks flamed when she envisioned those hazel eyes staring at her.

Suddenly, her sister burst into her room. "Get changed. We're going out," she informed her as she ripped Heather's drawers open, yanking out all manner of clothing.

Heather sat up as she watched her sister in bewilderment. Reves was wearing a red mini skirt with a black tank top, fishnet stockings, and her signature boots. "I'm certain Dad and Mom don't wish us to go anywhere tonight."

"Piss on them," Reves commented and tossed a pair of black tights and a purple tartan skirt at the younger girl.

"Pray tell, just where are we going?" Heather asked as she hesitantly slid off her baggy jeans and began laboring with the tights as she tried to conceal her figure as much as possible. She didn't suppose her parents would be too thrilled about an evening rendezvous, but she was foolishly elated that Reves desired to spend time with her.

Reves chortled and sighed. "The Bedsons are having themselves a little party."

The color drained from Heather's face. "Why the hell would we go there?" she demanded without a second thought.

Reves knew that would ruffle her sister's feathers, but she explained, "Okay, so Sydney just called me and told me Erik is supposed to be accompanying his little sister, Andrea to said party. So, I figured what's the harm in making a tiny appearance?" she shrugged and grinned mischievously. Then she proceeded to attack her sister's face with the eyeshadow brush and mascara wand.

"Why do you desire to see Erik again?" Heather was confounded. Erik had terminated their relationship. They hadn't spoken in months. Did she still harbor feelings for him? What of her _association_ with Scott Hall?"

When she ventured to inquire, Reves smirked at her. "Girl, you've got a lot to learn," she replied cryptically and tossed a tube of lip gloss on the dresser.

"Rev, I have no interest in going to some absurd house party. Let alone one hosted by the Bedsons." Heather was struggling to block the traumatic memories from her head.

"Look, I promise nothing will happen to you. Their house gets so packed with drunk and high idiots, you know that. I doubt you'll even run into either of them. And if you do, I'll punch them in their whore face."

Heather assumed her sister was still fuming from her earlier tiff with their brothers, though it didn't lessen her reservations. "I don't think so," Heather murmured with downcast eyes.

"C'mon! Weren't you just saying we never do anything together anymore?"

"Well, we could if you would not drop me as if I were some sort of leper," Heather groused.

Reves laughed at her in a cynical tone. "I promise, I won't leave your side tonight. Please!" Reves managed to beg with convincing puppy eyes.

With a heavy sigh, Heather relented. "Fine, but you had better be sincere in your words."

"Yeah, yeah. Of course. Now open the window."

"The window?" the younger girl repeated in disbelief.

The blonde smirked and opened the door leading into the hallway. "The look on your face," she mused.

The two girls crept downstairs. They could hear their parents in the family room, still exchanging harsh words. Their quarreling rendered Heather with a heavy heart as they scurried quietly towards the front door.

Reves opened the door slowly. Heather stepped over the threshold and froze when she heard her father's thundering voice call from the family room., "Where the hell do you think you're going?"

Panic-stricken, Heather glanced at Reves.

"Just going to see Sydney," the blonde replied casually.

"Your asses should be in your rooms."

"Oh. Now you want to do something responsible, Mark?" Sara interjected.

Rolling her eyes, Reves flipped the bird and closed the door behind her. She started down the steps of the front porch. Heather wavered a moment, looking back at the door before following suit.

They could already see the Bedson ranch, lit up like a Christmas tree. Leaving the cement driveway, they started out on the dirt road that would eventually fork off towards the Bedson's home. Reves had elected that they should walk. Bedson parties were known to be real blowouts and she didn't want to risk damage to her car by the fucked up morons that would be there.

As they walked, Reves quickly grew irritated with Heather dragging her feet and turning back to look at the house. "Heather, hurry up. Fuck," she griped.

With a little jolt, Heather increased her pace slightly. "I'm concerned about Mom and Dad. I don't want them quarreling on our account," Heather voiced.

Reves rolled her eyes. "Who cares. They've been doing it since before we were born. They're a walking advertisement for Dr. Phil. Actually, this whole family is, but that's beside the point," Reves admitted as she kicked a rock with the toe of her boot.

After that, they fell into relative silence as they made it the rest of the way to the Bedsons'. They could already hear the blaring music and shouting from hundreds of feet away.

Heather had to battle the urge to turn and sprint back towards home. She pondered how she always allowed herself to be drawn into these precarious situations. That was the last place she figured she'd have ended up that night. Yet, there she stood, outside the Bedsons' sprawling mansion.

The home boasted a posh interior with vaulted ceilings and marble floors. At the present time, it was in the process of being decimated by the wild shenanigans taking place both inside and out.

The Calaway sisters pushed their way inside and entered into the expansive foyer. Heather's senses were already overwhelmed as they surveyed the vicinity. A commotion to Heather's left drew her attention to one of the many sitting rooms. Her eyes widened at Brandon Bedson being hoisted into the air by his ankles in what was apparently dubbed a _keg stand_. Most of the football team were gathered around cheering him on. Amongst them, she noticed Marcus and Steven. Goodness, what was she doing here? This was pure insanity. One thing was certain. She definitely didn't want to be caught in Brandon's line of sight. Or her brothers', for that matter.

"Rev," she squeaked. She shifted her head to the right only mildly surprised to see that her sister had evanesced and was nowhere in sight. "Oh, damnit!" she groused. She craned her neck and rose up on her tiptoes attempting to locate her sister within the crowd. A sense of irritation began to grow with her when she was unsuccessful.

Heather began moving through the congested house. She recognized many of her classmates as she weaved in and out of the throngs. Some of them stared at her in shock and whispered amongst themselves, while a couple of people actually said hello to her. Muttering, she returned the greetings half-heartedly and moved on.

As Heather moved passed a room located towards the back of the home, she heard a laughter ring out that turned her blood to ice and nearly immobilized her. "Oh no," she whispered as she felt the ball in the pit of her stomach tighten. She turned to head back in the opposite direction, but the way was now blocked.

The laughter ceased and the southern drawl floated over the din. "Oh my God! Is that who I think it is?" The haughty voice asked. The laughter began again, taking on a dark tone. "Will y'all look what the cat dragged in? It's Heather Calaway!" the voice called out, drawing attention to itself.

In the blink of an eye, Heather was standing face to face with the queen bee herself, Brittany Bedson. Her drones surrounded Heather like a wake of vultures and she truly wished she were a dead rat at this moment.

"What the hell are you doing here, freak? Finally, get tired of listening to Marilyn Manson and slitting your wrists?" the blonde sneered, callously. "Figured you'd come here and try to be cool?"

"Not in that outfit," one of the girls snickered. Jessica, the omega of the pack.

"Now, Jessica. You can't expect her to know how to dress," Brittany said pointedly. "She so retarded, she can't even kill herself." She glowered at Heather with an evil smirk twisting her face and each one of the girls broke into a titter.

Heather lowered her head in humiliation. She regretted that her attempt had not been successful as she would not be there to suffer this moment. Her body began to tremble as she bit back the tears. Do not let them see you cry, she warned herself. Her tears only gave them power and fueled their hatred. "C-could y-you just let me go and I'll l-leave?" Heather stuttered meekly.

"W-w-what was that?" Brittany taunted her. When Heather didn't respond, Brittany shouted at her, "Answer me, freak!" She aggressively grabbed Heather's chin forcing her to raise her head. A slight yelp escaped Heather's lips as a pair of tears fell from her dark lashes. "Aww, Are you cwying wittle baby?" Brittany jeer at her with a blubbering gesture of rubbing tears from her eyes.

"Alright, Brit. That's enough. Just leave her alone," someone intervened. Heather briefly locked eyes with Brandon as he grasped his sister's arm.

Brittany turned her head sharply towards her twin brother. "Why do you care?"

"Because you're being an uber bitch." Brandon stopped and glanced at all the people staring back at him. "And you're destroying my buzz."

Brittany turned back to Heather. "You need to leave. No one wants to see your fucking ugly face. Got it, loser?" the blonde spat and shoved the ebony-haired girl by her face.

After stumbling, Heather didn't spare a moment fleeing the situation. The crowd seemed to part for her like the Red Sea, swirling with murmurs and sniggering.

Brandon watched her go. He was a little guilt-ridden that he didn't do more to stand up for her. He had a reputation to uphold, though. As much as he liked her, it wouldn't do him much good to be overly defensive of the class weirdo.

Hightailing through the hordes, Heather exited out the back door as it was the closest outlet from the house. With blurred vision, she sprinted across the pool deck, until she tripped on the leg of a free-standing metal swing. Her knees broke the ground as she cried out. With jarred limbs, she pulled herself onto the seat to catch her breath and ease her trepidation. She had told Reves she had no desire to come here. Yet her sister insisted. And for what motive? Only balderdash relating to her ex-boyfriend, which Heather couldn't comprehend.

Sitting there, furious sobbing leaked from Heather's eyes. Rage wasn't an emotion Heather played host to quite often, but there were many contributing factors to these circumstances. She was angry at Brittany and her lemmings for being so detestable. She was angry at Reves for coercing her into this situation with no regard to her history with the Bedsons. Ultimately though, she was indignant towards herself for permitting herself to be so easily beguiled into believing no detriment would be posed to her.

"I wouldn't really expect someone like you to frequent a scene like this," a voice said, causing her to jump.

She noticed a figure standing beside her and turned away. "C-could you just go away, please?" She hadn't intended to be so discourteous, but she was out of patience for such mockery.

"My bad. I just thought…" a male voice trailed off when he heard her sniffle and he looked down at her trembling shoulders. "Hey, are you, ok?" he asked, sitting beside her.

"I-I'm fine," she murmured, wishing he would leave her in peace to wallow in her misery.

"Asshole _popular _kids, eh? Royalty in their own little minds," he said with a light chuckle.

"Yes, I suppose," Heather mumbled. Who was this stranger and why couldn't he take a hint? With her head bent, her eyes shifted to a pair of Dr. Martens. She followed a pair of black jeans to a similarly colored shirt, sporting the cover art of Drowning Pool's _"Sinner"_ album. She looked into the face of a boy who was about her age. He had rich chocolate skin and dreadlocks falling on his shoulders.

When his black, onyx eyes met hers, he smiled," Hey, come on. You really think any of those jerkwads are worth your tears?"

Heather had never made the acquaintance of this boy before. Nor had she seen him around school. She gazed at him in bewilderment.

"Jeremiah De Sanchez," he grinned, offering his hand to her. Heather reached out hesitantly to shake his hand. Her doe eyes continued to gawk at him. "I know what you're thinking. How the hell does a brother get a last name like De Sanchez?"

"Umm. No," Heather demurred.

"Well, when my ma found out she was pregnant, homeboy, sperm donor split. After three years. Can you believe that? Anyway, my mama met this super awesome Latino guy around four months and they've been together ever since. When I was born, he signed the birth certificate and they gave me his last name. He's the greatest dad. So, I'm kinda glad the other dude walked away, ya know?"

Heather smiled timidly. "That's lovely." She then realized she hadn't even introduced herself. "I'm Heather Calaway," she said bashfully as she extended her hand then immediately withdrew it. "Oh, we already did that formality. My apologies," she squeaked as her countenance flushed.

"It's okay," He chuckled as he grasped her delicate hand and shook it again. "So, what brings you to the realm of spray tans and Abercrombie?" He gestured back towards the house.

"Conversely, whom. My sister. Something concerning her former boyfriend. I am quite confounded by her cause. She is already uh…_involved_ with someone, if you will."

"Maybe she is trying to get him back? Or make him jealous. Who knows with chicks, really? No offense."

"None taken. I must confess, the female psyche is often enigmatic to me, even being of the same gender." She giggled and felt the heat rise in her cheeks when he looked at her.

"Well, it's good to know I'm not alone in that. My cousin dragged me here, by the way. Tayvion Brown. You know him?" He didn't give her the opportunity to answer before he went on, "I'm new here. My mom's a teacher and apparently, they had an emergency position that needed to be filled last minute. We were supposed to move over the summer, but my mom needed to fill in right away. Tay thought I should come to get to know some kids before I start on Monday. Sucks switching schools this late in the game. Anyway, do you go to Waltrip?"

Heather's smile faded. "I had previously," she spoke lowly.

"Did you move?"

"No, I had issues with a group of girls and…" She didn't want those feelings to come back. She was already cross for being at the ridiculous party when the orchestrator of her torment was one of the hosts. "My home is over there," she pointed at the Calaway's ranch off in the distance, all too pleased to steer the conversation in a different direction.

They both looked to the enormous house over yonder. Despite the blackness, it was plain to see the home was grandiose due to the floodlights scattered across the property. "You live there? Damn, you must be loaded," Jeremiah said incredulously. "I could only dream to live in something like that."

Heather felt humbled suddenly. She had never thought of her family in that manner. She could remember living in a cramped apartment with her parents and siblings as a young child. In late 1990 when Mark debuted as his Undertaker character, things gradually began to change. She was starting to realize that some kids were not as well off as her family. She never tried to flaunt her wealth or privilege (not that it truly belonged to her at any rate. It was her father's) It had been one of the factors that had drawn a wedge between Brittany and herself. The reality was the Calaways were more affluent than the Bedsons. The latter simply spent their riches more frivolously. "I hadn't intended to appear ostentatious…"

"It's okay. I didn't think you were trying to be." Jeremiah smiled at her. "So, you speak like a nineteenth-century poet and you look like Snow White in a pair of cheaters. I think I'm actually glad I let Tay talk me into coming."

Heather flushed and cast her eyes on her shoes. "I don't _always_ speak like that." She grinned timidly. After a few moments she said, "My apologies, I should really be returning home. My father was rather indignant when we left.

"Mind if I walk you?" he asked audaciously.

Heather was taken aback by his request. "I-if you would like to. I don't you want to feel as if you are obligated to, if you would rather stay."

"I think I've probably already met the most interesting person here," he said as they stood.

The two teens walked the dirt road back to the Calaway ranch. As they did so, they talked of their families further, music, and other interests. Jeremiah discovered that Heather's dad was seemingly a popular professional wrestler known as The Undertaker, while Heather learned that Jeremiah played the drums, much to his father chagrin.

When they reached the front porch, Jeremiah asked, "So, did you want to hang out at some point?"

Heather frowned, "I'm terribly sorry. I travel a lot with my father. He just happens to be off at this time."

Jeremiah didn't seem fazed by this. "Do you have a cell phone. Just gimme your number and we'll get together next time."

"Oh. Alright." Heather remained baffled by his courtesy and fascination with her.

Once they had exchanged digits, Jeremiah said, "Great. See you around, Snow White," He grinned at her before he began to head back to the party down the road.

"See you," Heather murmured as her face reddened and flashed a bashful smile before entering the house to retire for the night.

* * *

**No interaction for our ship and I'm sorry. We'll get back to it next chapter.**


	27. Chapter 27

**I'm not crazy about this. Some chapters aren't that fun to write but kind of have to be done. This is one of those and I always tend to drone on with ones that I want to be brief. :/**

**Anywhoo, I forgot to thank morrowsong for the review of ch.25. Also, thanks Idcam for the review of the last chapter. No spoilers, but your thinking is headed in the right direction.**

* * *

A couple of days later Heather found herself on a plane, heading for Stamford, Connecticut with her father and sister. They had an appointment at WWE headquarters for their contract signing. Heather was stunned when Vince McMahon called and had reached a consensus with her father. Her mother had been rather indignant the remainder of their time, though she too had eventually acquiesced.

It wasn't until the plane had lifted off that Heather felt the apprehension set in. She hadn't given much attention to what it would mean in the coming hours. Following the Bedson's party, Heather had been anxious to get back on the road. It was a curious phenomenon that life on the road was beginning to feel more normalized than being at home.

Either way, she was relieved to be far from her tormentors, and the farther travel the further they became from her mind.

When she had told Reves of the experience the next morning, her sister had seemed contrite as Heather regaled her hardship and her sister had told her, "Next time I see that skank, I'm gonna knock her teeth down her throat."

Heather failed to mention the had she not coerced her into going to the party in the first place, it wouldn't have happened.

On the contrary, she would have not met Jeremiah, who was fiercely affable and accepting of her. She had only known him a few days, but there was a quality about him that made her feel comfortable like she could be herself.

However, she regretted having divulged to Reves her new acquaintance, for she had been incessantly teasing and interrogating her. Certainly, he was amiable and she felt they were becoming fast friends, but it still stood that they were barely acquainted.

To Reves' credit, that was her being as agreeable as she might be. For the most part, she had been in a foul disposition since the party herself. It was infuriating enough to hear of that bimbo humiliating her sister, but she had experienced her own issues. She found Erik alright – sucking face with that wench, Sydney. It seemed Sydney had only wanted her to attend so she could shove it in her face. Well, fuck them both. She was going to be on TV. Then they would be kissing her ass, big time.

When the plane landed there was a limousine waiting to take them to WWE headquarters. They pulled up in front of the large dark building designed with several rows of huge glass windows on the face. The sisters had never been there in person, although they had seen the building on television several times.

The family entered inside the lobby and were greeted by a young and attractive blonde receptionist. "Ah, yes," she smiled when Mark informed her of their meeting with Vince. After a few taps on her keyboard and a click of her mouse, she looked up from her computer screen. "Mr. McMahon is waiting for you in conference room C. Third floor," she informed them, then added, " Have a great day!"

Mark thanked her curtly before heading to the elevator with his daughters in tow.

They arrived at the appropriate room, stepping inside. Within the room, was a long table to accommodate several people.

"Alright. Here they are," Vince grinned as he stood to greet them.

Five other men quickly shuffled to their feet. They were what some talent may refer to as "the suits"; the ones behind the scenes, pulling the strings. The only ones the sisters recognized were Pat Patterson and Gerald Brisco, McMahon's lackeys both on and off screen.

After the introductions were made, everyone sat and they got down to business. Vince sat at the head of the table, with the suits on one side and the Calaways on the other. A thick packet with a bunch of legal jargon and mumbo jumbo was placed in front of each Calaway. The purpose of Mark's however was more parental consent what with Heather still being a minor. Ultimately, Mark would have a sense of creative control over Heather's character with the ability to veto nearly any aspect of her persona or potential angles. It was quite extreme, but it was the only way they could come to an agreement. Mark, was one of the few superstars who would ever be handed such a privilege.

Heather touched the hefty contract, feeling the smooth paper underneath her fingertips. Right now, this was just words on paper – until the ink dried. Then everything would change. She simply didn't know at the present time just how much it would.

A man who was apparently an attorney for WWE went over some of the finer points after Vince gave an overview of the contracts. The man droned on, but all Reves heard was, sign here, initial there. She was eager to have the process complete. The man suggested that they read over everything carefully before signing.

Heather proceeded to do just that, but Reves already had the pen in her hand. "Just sign the damn thing," Reves said to her sister in a hushed voice.

"And how am I to know if I do something that is in breach of my contract?" Heather questioned in an equally low tone.

Unfortunately for the sisters, when one is mere feet from others, there is not much that is secretive. Vince chuckled and Heather couldn't decipher whether he was truly amused or being sardonic. "Don't worry, dear. I'll be the first to let you know when you step out of line," he told her with a grin. A creepy-crawly sensation ran under her skin as she lowered her head to the paperwork again.

Heather picked up her pen and it hovered over the first space to initial. She was hesitant. She never had any intentions to be any closer to the wrestling business than she was. Yet Reves had attempted to convince her that this was an opportunity and may even lead to being picked up by a record label if they played their cards right. That seemed a little deceptive to Heather, but Reves argued that females did it all the time and tried to use wrestling as a stepping stone to acting careers and the like. Heather assumed that was likely true.

In addition to that prospect, there was somehow a minor fraction of her that wished to prove to her bullies that maybe she wasn't such a loser and a freak after all. She knew her latter motivation was absurd. She didn't belong on television, let alone a member of one of the most fearsome entities in wrestling history (even if it was in truth, currently a shell of its former self).

Despite all her ponderings, the pen came down and she proceeded to proverbially sign her life away.

When the last pen stroke had been made Heather stacked the pages neatly in a pile once more and pushed them across the table towards Mr. McMahon.

He smiled and it seemed almost perverse. Then again, the man had a bit of a sadistic characteristic about him, even in real life. He did to Heather, at least. "Alright, this is great. Now what I'd like to do is have them do a couple of screen tests to see how they look on camera," Vince said, primarily speaking to Mark.

Mark had sat there the entire time with a dour expression on his face. He was far from pleased about all of this. Although he hated to admit it, he felt he was obligated to agree given all that Vince had done for him and his family. Still, he had to wonder, at what cost? He and Sara had argued the entire time he had been home, even if it wasn't about this mess. So much so, Mark couldn't wait to get on the plane this morning. "Sure. Whatever," he groused.

* * *

Just as Vince has said, the newest editions to the rosters were sent down to a room with a studio set up to capture some promo type test shots. Vince wasn't present at that time, much to the girls' relief. He did however watch the shots back later in the day. The blonde did rather well. He was somewhat pleasantly surprised. A little coaching and she could pull off a lot. She had an alluring quality the likes of Sunny or Sable but with a darker edge.

The dark hair girl on the other hand was, unfortunately, a disaster. She had that deer in the headlights expression on her face in every shot and her movements were rigid and robotic. He only had a couple of weeks before he wanted them to debut on television. What the hell was he thinking?

No matter. She would serve her purpose he was sure. The nWo was too over and the rest of the boys in his locker room were not too happy.

* * *

Following their meeting with Mr. McMahon, Mark was due for a house show a couple of hours away. That evening after the event, Mark had slipped out to the bar with Glen and a couple of other guys. Butting heads with Sara over the past couple days had put a mental strain on him.

Reves had taken the occasion upon herself. She wasn't going to sit around and mope about Sydney and Erik betraying her. In just a couple weeks they'd be sorry, the fucking trifling cowards. For once, she didn't feel an ounce of guilt about leaving her sister to her own devices. She was astounded to see her on her cell phone, apparently talking with this mysterious Jeremiah kid. Well, good for the little dork, she supposed. She heard Heather giggle as she smirked to herself while closing the door behind her.

Reves found her destination quickly. She happened to catch a glimpse of him entering his room earlier and she hoped he wasn't out at the bar. She knocked on the door and waited. When the rugged, dark-haired man answered the door, her crimson painted lips stretched into a sultry grin. "Hey yo," she greeted him by snagging his signature catchphrase. "Miss me, Bad Guy?"

Scott's eyes brimmed with desire as soon as they fell upon her. "Like a fat kid misses cake, Chica."

Unexpectantly, Nash emerged from the bathroom making a joke about something or other and laughing. When he caught sight of Reves his demeanor changed to that of an angry bear. "So, I guess I'll tell Kid you won't be coming out tonight," he practically growled.

When he left the room, Reves noticed he was glowering at her as if she had just insulted his mama or some stupid shit like that. "What's up the Jolly Green Giant's ass?" she asked, though her interest had passed as soon as he left the room.

"Fuck if I know. He's been in a mood ever since Vince brought it up to bring you two on," Scott shrugged. "I don't call him Big Grouchy for no reason," he said followed by a smirk.

"Perhaps he's _man_struating," Reves chortled. "Anyway," she continued as she slowly unzipped her leather jacket, "I was wondering if maybe you would appreciate a little sneak peek of what's to come in a couple weeks?" She opened the front of her jacket, revealing the nWo tee shirt she was given earlier in the day. As she removed her jacket, he could see that she had fashioned it into a sleeveless crop top, and damn, it looked sexy.

Scott removed the toothpick from his mouth. "Shit, I don't think that shirt's ever looked better, doll," he said with a sexy grin. "But you know, it would still look best on the floor, I think," he hissed in her ear, causing her to shudder. He wasted no time putting it there, along with the rest of her clothes.

The next morning Vince had summoned the Calaways and nWo members down to the ring in the empty arena. They had a lot to accomplish and very little time in which to do it. He had seen the way they played to the camera – or lack thereof. Now he wanted to know how they did in and around the ring, as well as making an entrance.

The Calaways arrived at ringside first, as Mark was a stickler for punctuality.

After a fifteen-minute wait, Vince addressed Hall, Nash, and Waltman as they came in from the side of the ramp. "Thanks for joining us, men. I had no idea my watch was fast," the chairman said irreverently as he glared at them.

"Sorry, boss. Won't happen again, " Scott promised.

"Yeah, yeah. Where have I heard that one before?" Vince waved off his remark.

Heather stood near the lower-left corner of the ring closest to the stage, flanked by her father and sister. When Mr. McMahon had greeted the three men they came into her peripherals as they took dwelling on the opposite side of the ring. Once the blonde giant came into view, she quickly forced her gaze on Mr. McMahon standing in the ring. She felt her cheeks blaze as her heart began thumping inside her chest. She silently pondered if everyone else could possibly hear it as well.

"Let's get started," Vince announced. "We'll start with you, sweetie," Vince pointed at Reves. "I want you to head up to the gorilla and show me how you would enter. Afterward, I'll tell you how you did and what you need to improve."

"Sure thing," Reves said with a smug quality. As she passed the three men, she winked at Hall whose mouth stretched into a subtle smirk.

"Bro, did you see that? She winked at me. She fucking wants me!" Waltman whispered to Hall.

"Sure thing, Kid," Scott responded, amused by his friend's cluelessness.

Nash was beside the two men and snorted like a riled steed. He had worn a furious scowl since he entered the vicinity. He couldn't believe Mark was going through with this. This was going to be a disaster on every level. But Vince had a hard-on for this idea and when he got something in his head, there was usually no stopping him.

He didn't even see why they needed to be present for this bullshit. It was all a waste of time he told himself as he sat on the concrete barrier, his arms folded across his chest in annoyance.

Heather's stare drifted cautiously towards the three men some feet away. Her attention fell subtly on the blonde behemoth. She had noticed his indignant disposition once he had appeared. He seemed to have a permanent glower etched on his handsome face. His sordid expression continued as his eyes shifted in her direction. Eyes that were filled with wrath looked towards those of the timid girl. Heather felt her stomach leap into her throat as she swiftly turned. She was clearly a fool to think he had attempted to give her any type of affection or care. It was plain to see, he despised her. The disdain was evident on his face. She was crestfallen as she reprimanded herself for such arrogant misgivings.

Nash's anger was beginning to taper off after his gaze met the young girl's and was quickly replaced with remorse when she turned away in horror. His fury was not directed towards her, but at the situation. It was towards Vince for his ridiculous schemes. Even towards Mark for going along with these idiotic shenanigans.

Both Heather and Kevin were only vaguely aware of Reves passing by on her way to the ring. She got inside, making a display of it and stopped in front of Mr. McMahon.

Vince smiled at her, apparently pleased. "Not bad. Actually, that was quite good," the gruff voice of the boss called everyone's attention towards the center of the ring. "It's a little rough, but that's to be expected. I'm sure once you learn to play up to the crowd, it should be great."

"Thank you, sir," Reves beamed at him before getting out of the ring. She gave a coy glance in Scott's direction before hopping off the apron.

"Okay, sweetheart. Your turn," Vince commanded, pointing towards Heather.

It wasn't until that moment that she found herself gripped by dread. She had been so preoccupied with her thoughts concerning the attractive male standing just feet away. She hadn't even entertained the fact that she would be required to perform in the same manner. "M-me?" she murmured as she forced her gaze upon the chairman. Mr. McMahon's presence was so enormous and so intimidating, it was nerve-wracking just to be in the same room as him. The prospect of him judging her every movement was enough to make her want to faint.

"I don't know who else. Unless you think I would be calling one of these men here sweetheart," Vince commented with an air of annoyance.

Heather's mouth went dry. She felt her palms become clammy and she could hear her heartbeat in her chest. "R-right," she meekly attempted to project her voice. Her feet felt like lead as she began to trudge up the ramp towards the gorilla.

Nash exhaled sharply and combed a hand through his hair as he watched her go. Her countenance would have suggested Vince had instructed her to drown a basket of kittens. She didn't belong in this cesspit. She should be concentrating on graduating high school and preparing to enter college. He acknowledged that sentiment proved how lecherous his attraction to her was. How was he to get through this with his sanity intact?

When Heather reached the gorilla and stepped behind the curtain, she heaved a sigh. She knew she needed to emerge from her hiding place, but found it difficult to quit it.

"You can begin any time," she heard Mr. McMahon call from down in the ring.

She knew it best not to delay as he was a man of little patience. She felt the knot sitting in her stomach tighten. This was madness. Why had she agreed to such lunacy? She recognized this was the very least of it, unfortunately.

She willed herself to move, though her body felt as if it were frozen. She sauntered down the ramp with her head bent. She carried such a stiff posture it was as if she were made of wood. She knew there were a dozen eyes on her, but kept her attention locked onto her worn sneakers. If anyone could see her expression beneath the curtain of hair, it would have given the impression that she had been sentenced to the gallows. She could not deny that is how she felt as she clambered up the steel steps. They echoed loudly in her ears with each footfall. She stopped and stood on the side of the apron. She dared to drag her timid gaze towards Mr. McMahon and he cleared his throat as he stared back at her impatiently.

She swallowed the lump in her throat and crouched down as she began to slide under the second rope - that's how she had seen most of the other women do it, anyway. As she went to stand, her foot caught on the bottom rope and she tumbled to the canvas with a thud.

"Christ!" Vince growled, turning away as he pinched the bridge of his nose in exacerbation. "What the – just get out of the ring," his gravelly voice instructed her. "And don't hurt yourself on the way out."

It took Heather a few moments to gain control of her extremities due to the mortification caused by her blunder and the snickers she heard from the others.

"Come on, girl. How can you be so clumsy?" Mark reprimanded her as she moved cautiously down the steps.

She sensed the tears threatening to spring from her eyes. Why had she ever entertained this absurd notion that she could overcome her uncertainties and gain any measure of success? It seemed as if the kids from school were correct. She was a klutz and a loser and she couldn't manage to do anything right. She ran past everyone to the area at the side of the stage.

"We've got a lot of work to do with her, Mark," Vince said to her father ruefully.

Nash stood abruptly and found himself speaking before he even realized. "If you want her to do it right, you could probably start by not belittling and humiliating her," his words came out unexpectedly cool considering how worked up he truly felt. Everyone gawked at him as he followed in her direction.

Her back was turned to him as he approached. He stopped several feet away, being sure to maintain a safe distance. "Well, this is certainly an odd turn of events," he offered.

The young girl's heart skipped a beat when the large man's bass voice came over her. It was remarkably smooth and free of any harsh tones.

After wiping her eyes, she slowly circled to face him. "I haven't the slightest inkling as to what I am doing here, nor for what purpose. I should think that to be painfully obvious," she uttered passively. It took her a few moments to meet his gaze. When their eyes connected, she noticed a fluttering in her abdomen, and her visage bled with a crimson hue. He wasn't staring at her with that hateful scowl he was wearing only minutes prior. Alas, it was a tender, empathetic expression, which left her perplexed.

For the love of everything holy, why was she peering at him like that? He swore he could feel an electricity crackling in the space between them. He shoved his hands in his pockets out of fear that he would impulsively reach out and grab her, pulling her into him.

"You don't have to go getting all philosophical on me, but I suppose it wouldn't help to tell you to picture McMahon in his underwear," he teased. It was his way of defusing the situation.

It had the intended effect as her sullen countenance filled with alarm, then twisted with disgust. "I've already had the misfortune to bear witness to such atrocities," she whispered flatly.

"I won't ask how," he goaded her.

The teenager's mouth hung open as her face exploded in a burst of red. "N-no! I've never…" flustered she stumbled over her words. "Y-you've seen the man's outrageous antics," she mumbled, praying no one could hear them.

The big man chuckled. He got a kick out of playfully riling her. He could only imagine the other ways that he could stir her up. Take it easy, you gigantic moron, he warned himself.

"What's your favorite song?" he asked suddenly out of the blue, taking her back.

Her brows furrowed in confusion. "From which genre?" she inquired.

"It doesn't really matter."

"Well, forgive me. I beg to differ-"

"That's not the point, little one." He smiled as he shook his head. "What's the last song you listened to, how about that?"

"It was _Don't Stand So Close to Me_ by The Police," her mantle deepened as she spoke. "I was listening to their Greatest Hits album earlier this morning," she justified her response.

He gawked at her. She was ribbing him, right? She had to be. That was it. He was convinced she was a little vixen behind a façade of naivety. Fat fucking chance. He studied her expression. Although sheepish, it was quite sincere. Yet, for all her innocence, the girl treaded some serious territory.

Yes, he knew the popular song detailing a teacher having the hots for his jailbait student. The song even referenced Nabokov's famous novel. He had known the tune for years, but he never thought he would end up sympathizing with the unfortunate bastard.

"What's the purpose of all of this, might I ask?" she wondered.

"You need to shift your focus from everyone looking at you and what they're thinking to just getting the job done." No. She needed to go far, far away from him, and stay there.

"H-how do I accomplish that?" she questioned, thoroughly confounded. " I couldn't even land the solo in the showcase at school, last fall," she mumbled.

"But you sang in front of all those people in that club."

"Yes, but that was a couple dozen people. Not th-thousands."

"It's the same idea. You just need someone to believe in you." He paused, not realizing how true his words were until he uttered them. Despite not being a touchy-feely person, he knew Mark loved his daughter immensely. However, he was not very adept at showing that love or encouraging confidence in her. Coming out of his own thoughts, he told her, "Just pretend you're up there, performing a song. Sing The Police song – or any song really, in your head and only focus on that. If you can get used to being out there, the rest will come to you. A kind of fake it 'til you make it deal."

He had no idea why he was sabotaging himself like this. Every bit of logic in him said it was best to separate himself from her as much as possible. Yet he was inexplicably drawn to this docile creature.

She laughed, almost scathingly and there was a dark glint in her that he had never witnessed before. "I disagree," she cut her eyes away and her head dropped. "I wish I had never signed that preposterous contract," she admitted in a nearly inaudible tone.

Hell, me too, he almost blurted out. Instead, he breathed a heavy sigh. "I don't think there is much to be done about that now," he told her sympathetically. "You want to give it another go? For what it's worth, I believe you can do it."

Her heart swelled upon hearing his words. "R-really?" she was asked breathlessly.

His heart wrenched as she stared up at him with the forlorn eyes of a puppy that was starved for affection. It made him question whether his attraction to her was merely a means of taking advantage of her vulnerability. Nevertheless, he acknowledged how fucked up he was.

"I'm terrified of Mr. McMahon," Heather divulged meekly, "but if you insist." It then took every measure of courage to maneuver her body back to ringside.

Mark watched her return and take residence in her former position. Next, his narrowed gaze followed Nash as he too returned moments later. They had been within sight throughout the entirety of their conversation, but Mark studied them the whole time, his eyes glued to Nash in particular.

Vince still stood in the ring, leaning over the ropes. "How about we try again, sweetheart?" he crooned.

Heather established fabricated politeness to his demeanor. Beneath that, however, he was still quite exasperated by her.

She peered cautiously at Nash. He granted her a reassuring glance and nodded.

Mustering all her strength, she squeaked, "Y-yes, sir," forcing herself to glance at the intimidating man.

Returning to the gorilla, she inhaled deeply in order to fortify herself. She focused on a song she could use as an escape. Her mind recalled _Glycerin_ by Bush. She was astounded by her performance that night.

She emerged from the curtain on her cue and while she didn't offer a flawless demonstration, she didn't falter on the rope at the very least.

"Well now, that's what I want to see!" Vince grinned. It was still atrocious, but there was a little time.

How did you get her to do that? What did you tell her?" Mark inquired, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Nothing really," Nash replied nonchalantly, shrugging his huge shoulders.

"Regardless, that's great!" Vince interjected. "If you can get her to cooperate, you can have a hand in training them. After all, you will be working with them," he informed Nash. "That is, if you agree, Mark," he added, turning to the girls' father.

"I suppose that'd be ok – as long as I'm around," Mark replied indignantly.

Nash's face morphed into a furious sneer. "Hell no!" he roared.

His outburst startled Heather. She witnessed his deportment alter. These conflicting attitudes he displayed confounded her. How could he be so gracious one moment, then apoplectic the next?

He continued, "I'm going along with this bullshit angle, but I didn't sign up for all this fuckery, too!" he bellowed before storming off in a rage.

His hand shaking, it raked through his hair. He was a fucking jackass. He lost his cool back there. He knew this it was coming, but he dreaded hearing it. There was no reprieve for him and every moment of this was becoming a nightmare. If he was made to physically put his hands on her, he wasn't sure how long he could hold out against his overwhelming desire.


	28. Chapter 28

**Hey all. No significant happenings in this chapter and I apologize. Once again, I got carried away with myself and I had to split it, so next chapter will have the more interesting stuff. Maybe.**

**Thanks again to morrowsong and Idcam for the reviews.**

* * *

Later that day, Heather sat in catering, inwardly loathing the tangled mess that made up her emotions. She couldn't grasp these seemingly misleading cues that were being delivered to her. She glanced around the space for any sign of the blonde giant but found none. When he had spoken to her in private, he appeared amiable and charming. Conversely, as willing, as he was to offer her a genial expression, he seemed to become quite indignant at the mere mention of her. She questioned how his disposition could possibly convince her to assume that he harbored any measure of affection towards her.

She was not an authority on the matter. Her only knowledge came from books she had read and movies she had seen, which proved to be unreliable. She had never put much stock in romantic notions – until recently. Now she felt torn with conflict and no one to turn to for answers. Ideally, every quandary could be answered within a book, but she had a feeling she wouldn't find any solutions inside printed pages.

"What's with you?" Reves asked only half concerned. Her sister was always sulking about one thing or another. "Your boyfriend break up with you, already?"

"He is not my boyfriend," Heather muttered.

Reves rolled her eyes. "Sorry. That boy who is your friend. You know honestly, it wouldn't kill you to date, someone."

"Why must I? At any rate, that would require an individual to actually wish to have something to do with me," the younger girl said, bitterly.

Their conversation was cut short by the appearance of their older friends. "So, word around the locker room is you two are now property of one, Vincent Kennedy McMahon," Matt teased as they sat down.

"Word travels fast," Reves grinned.

"It's also rumored that he threw you into the nWo," Amy added.

"Like I said, it travels fast," Reves's coy expression remained.

"So it's true?" Jeff asked, almost in disbelief.

"I'm afraid so," Heather muttered, sinking down in her chair.

"You don't sound too enthusiastic about any of this," Amy noted.

"Eh, she's just miffed because we had to rehearse in front of McMahon and everyone else and she botched first time around," Reves answered dismissively.

"Miffed? I was humiliated and each of you went about jeering and taunting me," Heather retorted quietly.

Amy frowned. "Vince can be an intimidating person. He even gives me the jitters sometimes," Amy confessed. "We could help to train you if you want."

"Oh, no need. Not only did we get to join their little group, but now Nash -and probably his buddies- get to train us as ordered by Vinnie Mac," Reves informed them.

"You're kidding, right?" Jeff questioned.

"I wish," Reves replied, edging on the dramatic. "As you can probably guess, Nash is basically pissed about the whole situation. Like something crawled up his ass and died. He is such a douche."

Heather glanced at her friends who seemed to sympathize with her sister. She sunk even lower into her seat. It was blatantly clear that Kevin Nash was not well received within the confines of the locker room. She hypothesized that the prospect should have aligned her view of him with that of her friends and others. Curiously, her perspective of him did not correlate with the majority of his acquaintances, even despite his ever-shifting temperament towards her. If anything, his personality seemed…misconstrued. Perhaps that was a trait they shared, though they may be of opposing comportments.

"Anyway, fuck that dipshit. Heather, tell 'em about your boyfriend," Reves commanded as her elbow met sharply with her sister's side.

Heather's posture straightened immediately. "He is certainly not taken with me in any such manner!" Heather asserted; her face suffused with a crimson heat. Her thoughts had been fixed on the ill-reputed blonde man, but she quickly realized it was her new association with the upbeat teenage boy her sister was referring to. "I mean, we're just friends," she murmured as her shoulders sagged. "I met him at this horrendous party back home."

"Hmm, seems like just friends to me. Or is your face always that red?" Matt teased.

Her eyes flickered passed her friends and promptly returned to focus on the tabletop as the color painting her visage intensified. _He _had swaggered into the room. His charismatic charm and appeal demanded her attention, even just for a moment.

"Oh, she's been talking to this guy every night for at least an hour," Reves offered.

"Ohhh," Amy taunted playfully.

Their conversation had pervaded Heather's ears, but the nature of it was inconsequential to her. Her chest tightened with an overwhelming sense of yearning. This foreign emotion struck her and rendered her vehemently unable to cope. So much so, she leaped from her seat and fled the room promptly.

"Hey, I was only kidding!" Reves called after her.

Nash's vision caught a flurry of violet-black as the girl sprinted across the room and quickly exited. What could be the issue now? His eyes were drawn to her sister as she shouted across the room. He wondered what Reves had said to her to make her so upset. He hoped she wasn't giving her shit over her blunder earlier.

Everyone was trying to force her out of her skin, but the more they did, the more she imploded into herself. Why couldn't people see that? Hell, he barely knew her and he could see that. He had to control his impulse to follow after her, knowing it was best to keep as much distance as possible. He could only fathom what would happen in the weeks and months to come.

* * *

Heather slowed her pace once she felt she had put enough distance between herself and the large man. She moved to round the corner and came to a screeching halt when she nearly collided with Sean Waltman. "Oh!" she yelped with wide eyes as her body jerked. "E-excuse me."

"My bad," he said. He had a surprisingly gruff voice that Heather had never really noticed, which seemed to be a paradox to his smaller stature. He was by no means tiny in comparison to herself, but he was certainly dwarfed by many of the other men.

Heather only nodded silently and began moving around him.

"Oh hey," he caught her attention. "Um, I just wanted to say, like I'm sorry for laughing at you earlier. You know, when you tripped on the rope."

Her face reddened when he brought it up once again. How could she have forgotten, as it were? "That's quite alright," she mumbled. "T-thank you." She turned quickly, intending to rush away as she wasn't too well acquainted with him and didn't feel comfortable speaking with him alone.

"I just tend to laugh at stupid, immature shit I find funny. I don't mean anything by it, really," he continued, missing her cue and obvious discomfort.

"There you are, girl," her father's rough voice called to her as he approached. "Where's Reves?"

Heather was startled a bit by the sound of his stern tone. "She's in catering, speaking with Amy and the boys," she replied meekly.

Satisfied, he turned to Waltman. "Where's Nash?" he asked, glaring down at him through narrowed eyes.

As if the prospect needed to be reiterated, Heather witnessed just how intimidating her father was to many people. A sense of weariness, along with revered respect was displayed on not only Waltman's face but in his whole demeanor. "He's in catering. I was just heading there," his reply was curt, if not intimidated.

"Good," he said, then looked at his daughter, "Let's go, girl." He canted his head towards the direction of the catering area.

Heather's heart fell into the pit of her stomach as she trudged along, just behind her father. She had just fled the vicinity. What could possibly call the need for her return?

Mark entered catering and located the man he was seeking. "Vince wants to see you," Mark told him, as he pulled out a chair and took a seat at the table.

"I don't see why. No disrespect man, but I'm not wasting my time on a couple of kids that have no business even being here," Nash said, looking at him with an air of indifference.

Mark stared at him a moment. While he couldn't disagree with the latter part of his statement, the fact remained this is what Vince wanted. This sure as shit wasn't the ideal situation for him either, but the less people caused a stink, the easier it would be for everyone. Nash could be a great guy, but there was a reason he had earned a reputation of being a whiny bitch at times. "Well, you'll have to take that up with Vince," Mark retorted with an air of annoyance. Nash, could argue otherwise, but if it didn't benefit him or his boys, he usually wanted no part of it.

"Fine," Nash growled. He cut his eyes across the room. He could feel the curious gaze fixed on him. She had rejoined her friends, but her stare was focus on her father and himself. Once their eyes met, hers flinted away and he was overcome with a sense of guilt due to how he had reacted earlier. He had seen her flinch and look upon him with terror when he had his ridiculous outburst. Most people thought he was a straight-up prick. Truthfully, most people were right. Regardless, he didn't want to be painted that manner in her eyes, even if it was probably better that way.

He stood up before he could be beaten down by his thoughts anymore. "I'll talk to Vince, but that doesn't mean I'm agreeing to shit," he told Mark as he walked away.

* * *

Kevin found Vince in his office. "You wanted to see me?" he asked, trying not to let his voice reveal the contempt he felt.

"I did," Vince replied as he cleared away his current work into a neat pile on the side of his desk. "Have a seat," he gestured to the chair in front of his desk and Nash obliged. "I want you to know that I am willing to overlook your little tantrum earlier if you agree to the terms of training and preparing the girls for their debut."

Tantrum? Where did this man get off? Yeah, he overreacted. He had already owned up to that. Still, he couldn't understand that he was the only one that saw how cracked out all of this was.

"And, if I don't agree?" Nash challenged.

"Well, I could always suspend you. Without pay." Vince shrugged his shoulders in a show of irrelevance, although he knew that would stick in the big man's craw.

Nash could feel his blood begin to boil while he struggled to maintain his blank expression. Of course, he would resort to some shit like this. Nash had a reputation for being all about the Benjamíns. Perhaps he was, but money didn't make his wife stay. Nor did it make him a very good husband. He pushed the memories from his head. What did any of that matter now?

Vince continued, "Look, Kevin, you know I don't want to do that, but there is only so much time before they get put on television. Our particular issue is the dark-haired one. You know yourself, she is a disaster."

_Our issue? Buddy, that's all you!_ Kevin thought. "How is any of this my problem?" he asked in a snarky tone before he could stop himself. "I told you it was an awful idea to bring them on. What's the point really?" _Besides driving me to the brink of insanity?_

"I've already made that clear," Vince answered with irritation, "You guys were in a rut already and those girls needed to make themselves useful if they were going to be loitering around here. If they're not up to par, the rest of you will look like shit."

_Will_ look like shit? As opposed to when? This man was infuriating. "I'm telling you, this isn't going to work," Kevin stated. "Especially with the younger one. You said it yourself: she's a disaster," God, he felt like an ass for speaking about her that way, but he had to keep face.

Vince looked at him keenly. "I don't think you should be so sure. Something in her attitude changed after your little talk." Kevin's face fell, but Vince went on as if he didn't notice, "I don't know what your little conversation entailed. Frankly, I don't care too much, but you may be the only one who can get her to do what we need."

"But I don't know the damn kid," Nash argued. "All I did was tell her to think of it as singing a song like she had that ni…"

He stopped, realizing that while he may not know everything about her, he had a lot more knowledge than he ought to. During every encounter, he had snatched up little bits of her and committed them, subconsciously to memory. Things such as her love of classic literature and music. As well as her eclectic taste in more modern tunes such as 80s synth-pop to gothic rock. The way she always adjusted her glasses when she thought she was right - although she was too modest to tell anyone so. He assumed her favorite color was purple because that's what she chose for her hair, but he could be wrong. She practically lived in those grody Chuck Taylors of hers. He also had it on good authority, that she wore baggy, unflattering clothes because she was ashamed of her body, probably due to the bullying she endured. Regardless of what those little bitches tried to sell her, he knew the way she felt in his arms and under his touch. He knew she was something else because just the thought of her lit him on fire, and he used to spend night after night looking at dozens of women and hooking up with many of them too.

He suddenly remembered he was sitting in Vince's office and snapped out of his dirty thoughts. How had he come to be so seemingly obsessed with her in such a short amount of time? It had taken several months of dating for him to even begin to notice these small details about his ex-wife. Of course, the primary attribute he focused on was how hot she had been.

"Everything alright?" Vince asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah," Nash sighed. He was beginning to wonder if his hard opposition was raising more questions than if he just played it cool and nonchalant. Unfortunately, he was finding it increasingly difficult to reign in his urges each time he laid eyes on her. His anger was undoubtedly a product of that struggle. "So, let me get this straight. You want me to be responsible for teaching those little ankle-biters to wrestle?" he asked.

"Well, no. Not at this time. Right now, I just want to focus on the way they carry themselves and react to the crowd. As well as learning to take a couple bumps.

The big man expressed a growl. "_If _I do this, we're going to need Scott's help as well."

"Why?" Vince asked, genuinely curious.

"Because, he's got patience in spades compared to Mark or myself," Kevin said flatly. Although that was true, his primary reasoning was to create a less tense situation, but even that hinged on how Scott and Reves interacted with one another while they were around Mark. Rationally, he shouldn't give those two an in, but they already fucked like jackrabbits.

Vince chuckled. "That's true. I think that's doable, as long as Mark approves."

"Anything else?" Kevin asked peevishly as he stood up.

"We're good. I'll let you know when the first training will be."

"Sure," Nash muttered and left. Once out of the room, he released an exasperated groan and dragged his hands down his face. Why the fuck had he just agreed to that? He needed a degree of separation, not to draw nearer to her. If just the thought of her was enough to eclipse his logic - even for a few moments- he was royally fucked.


	29. Chapter 29

**This chapter should be more interesting, I hope.**

**Thanks to Idcam for the review.**

* * *

As he had stressed, Vince wasted little time getting everyone to work. The very next day saw Hall and Nash meeting Mark and his daughters down in the ring.

Mark was already irritated, and he narrowed his eyes at the Outsiders as they came to the ring, tardy as expected.

Heather watched as Nash effortlessly stepped over the top rope. Her heartbeat quickened once she had seen him approaching. She possessed this feeling of unrequited longing that she still had yet to comprehend. She stole a glance at him and the heat rushed to her cheeks. She had been subjected to glimpsing several wrestlers with their hulking physiques and charming exteriors, but there was just a superiority about him. He was splendidly…beautiful. After a moment, she forced the preposterous musings from her head. There she stood, waxing poetic while she was convinced, he merely thought of her as a foolish child.

As Nash entered, he attempted to keep his attention off the dark-haired girl, but he noticed her fleeting gaze on him. The soft, pink glow highlighting her pale cheeks was almost enough to drive him insane. He desperately needed to get a hold of himself, otherwise, he wouldn't make it through this session. He shifted his eyes to the sister, who was standing behind Mark, making what could be considered an obscene gesture towards Scott with her tongue. Hall smirked subtly at her, leaving Kevin rolling his eyes.

"Are we ready to get started? I have other things to take care of," Mark groused.

"Sure thing, Chico," Scott told him.

"I already have them warmed up and stretched," Mark informed them.

"Great," Kevin said unenthused. "What do you want to get started with?" he asked, leaning casually against the turnbuckle in one corner.

"Just a basic back bump. That's the most preliminary tool," Mark stated obviously. He didn't see any point in going to invasive. They were not going to be getting into any real action – at least not yet.

Kevin shrugged and nodded in agreement.

"Alright. First thing I'm gonna show you is yer basic back bump. This is how you would fall when you're going back to prevent yourself from getting hurt," Mark told his daughters as he stepped towards the center of the ring. "Now, when you do any break fall, remember, it's the result of force from your opponent, or whoever is attacking you. So, it has to be impactful, but not reckless. The main objective of a successful back bump is to deliver that impact, but protect yourself as much as possible. Particularly, your head."

Nash snorted from his corner. "Just get on with it, man. I haven't heard this long a promo since Hulk turned at Bash at the Beach."

"Would you like to demonstrate? Or is that below your paygrade?" Mark retorted.

"It might be," Nash answered smugly.

"I think it might be above," Hall chimed in as he approached the center and gave Nash a shit-eating grin. "I'll do it. I better get my cut out of that payday. You volunteered me for this, remember?"

_Stupid prick_, Nash thought fondly as he returned the smirk. Scott was glad to show off for his little tart.

"Ok, if you two are done making goo-goo eyes at each other, can we please see something?" Reves questioned impatiently.

Heather's face became inflamed. Had she been staring at him? She wasn't aware.

"Hush, Reves. You're not in a position to demand shit," Mark reprimanded her.

It was then that Heather realized her sister was not speaking to her, but to the other two men, which she found rather peculiar. Her eyes dared to venture towards the blonde man whose hair was tied back in a ponytail. It was lovely, yet so much more magnificent when it was free, cascading over his shoulders in thick waves. Feeling as if he could read her thoughts, her cheeks brightened when he subtly dragged his eyes in her direction.

Heather was taken by surprise when Hall's body suddenly collided with the mat. The force shook the ring greatly; much more than Heather would have expected and caused her to stumble off-kilter. Coming out of her fog, she looked down at Scott Hall, still laying on the canvas as her father spoke.

"Alright, you see, most importantly, he tucked his head into his chest. That's going to keep his head from smacking the mat. He brought his knees up and his feet are pointed down. As he fell, his arms came out to distribute his weight. Now, when he goes to get up, he's going to use his right elbow and come upon that same knee." Scott illustrated Mark's words as he spoke. "So, which one of you wants to go first? Rev, I assume it's you. Get over here."

"Yes, my lord," Reves replied mockingly and took her place towards the center.

"No need to be a smart ass, girl. Just do as you're told," Mark scolded her.

Reves ignored him and flashed a coy grin at Scott. She shook out her blonde tresses while inhaling and exhaling deeply with a dramatic flair. Then she let herself fall back with a bang.

Nash smirked as he watched her cocky expression morph to a painfilled wince. "Now, how did that feel?" he asked rhetorically.

She stood quickly, bringing her hand to her back. "Like being tickled by a million feathers. It fucking hurt. How do you think it felt, Lurch?" she snapped, causing him to narrow his eyes at her.

"Cut that damn attitude, girl!" Mark warned her.

"I don't know why people ask such stupid-"

"Shut your mouth!" her father growled.

Rage flashed in the blonde girl's eyes, but she fell silent.

"Heather, yer up. Let's go," Mark said, averting his eyes to his youngest. "And take off your glasses. I don't want you breaking them. Vince doesn't want you wearing glasses on TV, so you best start liking those contacts I wasted so much money on."

Heather stared up at him with a sullen expression that would have insinuated that he had instructed her to literally pluck her eyes out. Heather had a stockpile of contact lenses located inside a dresser drawer in her room. Her parents and her sister had attempted a few times to convince her to wear them but to no avail. Eventually, Mark stopped buying them when he grudgingly realized it was nothing but money down the drain. "Why would he take grievance with my glasses?" She wondered out loud, although it was produced as a mumble.

Mark sighed. "Something about how it didn't fit the image of the group. It doesn't matter. Just get on with it," he told her impatiently.

Frowning, Heather removed her glasses and placed them in a corner, underneath the turnbuckle. Her vision was fuzzy and the faces around her blurred.

Kevin had never really seen her without her glasses. Not that she looked much different, but it was still a little odd to gaze upon her naked face, bright green eyes unobstructed. He never had a glasses fetish of any sort, but it was strangely like an intricate piece of her persona was taken away. As a matter of fact, nearly every aspect concerning her was an antithesis to what he usually sought after. He liked blondes, (not ones like her sister) making an exception for the occasional brunette. On anyone else, that dark hair and wacky highlights would be utterly absurd. He always thought a woman with a warm tan looked sexier than the pale flesh of a corpse. He was attracted to confident ladies who knew what they wanted. He never paid attention to the shy, mousy ones. They seemed like real duds. Oh, and most important of all: they were all…legal.

"What are ya waiting for, girl? We ain't got all day," Mark pressured her.

She stood there, rocking back and forth on her heels. "W-what if I…I…" Heather cast her eyes downward, "don't want to?" she mumbled the last part, afraid of her father actually hearing.

Mark's face scrunched in annoyance. "Well, it's too late for that now. You're going on national television in just a couple weeks. You better find some gumption real quick," he chided her. It came out harsher than he meant it. He was not a very tactful man, but that didn't prevent the disappointment that overtook the young girl's lovely features.

Heather closed her eyes and exhaled sharply, trying to stuff down her reservations. Summoning her courage, she threw caution to the wind.

Nash observed with apprehension. As soon as her feet left the canvas, he knew she was in trouble. He watched as she fell, almost in slow motion, and winced when the back of her head bounced off the mat with a resounding thud. The blow rendered her shocked and immobilized for a few moments. She slowly sat up, clutching the back of her head.

Heather sustained immense humiliation. She stared down at the canvas. She fought the tears that threatened to spring from her eyes.

"Oh my God! Are you okay, you little dork?" Reves asked. At least she seemed somewhat concerned even if it was offered in a scathing manner.

"Hell, girl what are you doing? Weren't you even paying attention when Scott was showing you what to do?" Mark derided her.

Nash felt the anger rise up in him. The poor girl could be concussed and all he gave a damn about was that she didn't perform correctly. She had no business being thrust into all of this in the first place. Call him sexist, maybe unnecessarily gallant on the opposite end, but he didn't like to see women getting banged up and taking hard hits. While there were a few women who truly deserved their spot and had proven themselves, most were there in supportive roles.

Kevin didn't think to stop himself as he bent down to help her up. Nor did he care at the moment. He wanted to tear Mark a new one, then go backstage and punch Vince square in his jaw for even dreaming up this cockamamy scheme. "Maybe, it'd be prudent to make sure she's not concussed, Mark?" he suggested, cutting his eyes towards the other man.

"Prudent," the teenager repeated. "Perhaps I'll use that as the word of the day," she muttered, still favoring the back of her skull.

"She's fine," Reves said dismissively as she rolled her eyes.

Before anything else could be said, a stagehand approached the ring. "I'm sorry to interrupt, Taker, but Mr. McMahon said he wanted to see you right away," he croaked nervously.

"Did he say why?" Mark questioned with agitation. What the hell could the man want now? "I'll right I'll be there." That wasn't up for debate, no matter how inconvenienced he was.

The stagehand nodded and swiftly hurried off. The speed at which he fled gave Mark a chuckle. He wasn't _that _scary, was he?

His thoughts then shifted to his meeting with Vince and Mark growled openly. "I'll be back," he told the girls. "Go ahead and take a break, I guess," he said before hopping out of the ring and heading backstage, but not before shooting another glance at Nash, who still had the young girl in his grasp.

Looking wide-eyed both sisters were flummoxed that he left them alone with two grown men. Then again, when Vince called, he answered. Always.

"How's your head? You don't feel dizzy, or nauseous, or like you're going to pass out, do you?" Kevin asked the girl. Only then did he realize that he had not relinquished his hold on her. She remained in his grasp despite knowing full well he should release her.

She shook her head at his questioning. "It is a bit painful," she confirmed, still gripping the back of her head. "However, I believe I will survive."

"That's good," he chuckled at her. His hand threaded inside her hair to survey the knot at the back of her skull. He was in a precarious position. He had the ability to pull her right into him and his body ached for it.

Her timid gaze focused up towards him. "It is good that I am in pain, or good that I will not expire yet?" She found the courage to finish her inquiry as her attention shifted from her head to the strong hands in which she found herself.

"I think you're going to be okay, little one. You have to remember to tuck your chin or you probably won't be so lucky next time. It's too easy to get hurt with all this," he sympathized gently. He looked down at her, as his hand drifted down the back of her neck, then partway down her spine. He knew that there was a delicate frame underneath that faded band tee and oversized gym shorts that read **Property of Waltrip High School **on the front, left leg. He didn't want her taking bumps and getting all bruised up if he could help it. He wanted to kiss her tender flesh and touch her softly. "Fuck," he whispered and exhaled sharply as he felt the stirring of his loins.

His lusting was mercifully interrupted when he heard giggling from one corner of the ring. It was Reves. She grabbed the front of Scott's shirt and threw herself to the canvas, dragging him along with her. "Opps! How clumsy of me," she tittered with a Cheshire grin and they kissed.

Kevin released Heather as he stared at the tomfoolery before him. Crossing his arms over his chest, he glowered at them.

Heather looked on, wide-eyed with bashful modesty. She peeked up at Nash to gauge his reaction, noticing his face was distorted in a scowl. His eyes locked on to hers and softened a bit, however, his expression remained consistent. She blushed at their display, although it wasn't overly vulgar or obscene.

"Ahem!" Nash cleared his throat loudly. His eyes zeroed in on the giddy pair. "Can you two fuck around on your own time?"

"So, we're supposed to be on _your_ time?" Reves retorted as Scott moved off of her and stood. She continued to glare at him as Scott helped her up.

"Yeah, you're wasting my fucking time, playing games like a couple of juvenile kids," he snapped. He was becoming irate and he hardly knew why. "I'm sure you'd love to have Daddy Calaway come back and explode once he's had a gander at this fuckery." Nash glowered at both of them in turn. He paused suddenly, realizing he was projecting his own fears. It's not that he was afraid of the man himself. More so, it was the pull he had with Vince and backstage. He literally buried Page and that poor bastard only kayfabe stalked his wife. If Mark had even the slightest inkling that he had it in for his precious baby girl, Nash's career would be over. Not to mention, he wouldn't be surprised if he found himself in the clink. He forced himself to chill out because the belligerence was not helping his cause. "This is about getting you ready for TV. Not you two being all gaga and lovey-dovey with each other."

"I am not lovey-dovey," Reves denied.

Kevin snorted, "Sure seems like it to me."

"Why don't we practice some more bumps?" Scott suggested, to keep them from arguing.

"Good idea, I guess," Nash said. "Might as well do something while we're doing nothing. Would you like to try your bump again, little one?" He directed his inquiry to the raven-haired girl whose cheeks suffused with a crimson glow that made his body go rigid. There was no eroticism within her chaste deportment. That didn't prevent his debauched view of her, even given how catastrophically this was bound to end for him if he allowed these errant thoughts to run wild. Or worse, if he ever lost his damn mind and acted on them.

"D-do I have to?" she pleaded, doe eyes staring up at him.

"I'm certainly not going to make you. Just know that it's pretty much inevitable that you're going to have to get this down sometime in the next couple weeks," he told her expressionlessly as Scott and Reves stared at him.

"I suppose, I have little to no alternative," she demurred.

He frowned slightly, hating that she felt that way, but he didn't spend too much time displaying his emotions. "Scotty, show her again," he commanded his friend.

"_Me?_ Why me?" Scott groused.

"Just do it," Kevin replied with an irritated look.

Hall muttered a couple curses under his breath but positioned himself to demonstrate the fall again.

Nash explained the points again and she sincerely wasn't assured that the information soaked into her brain as she listened to him speak. She stood there as they stared at her impatiently. "I…I would rather not," she squeaked.

"Quit being a puss. It's not that bad," Reves chided her, arms folded over her chest.

"So, you retract your earlier statement?" Heather questioned.

"No. But I wasn't a wimp about it either,"

Nash couldn't help himself from grimacing at the young blonde. "You're not helping. And since you don't know your ass from a hole in the ground when it comes to this shit, why don't you shut the one in your face?" he said before he thought better of it, garnering glaring looks from both her and Scott.

Ignoring them, he turned back to the timid girl. She didn't deserve to be treated like garbage by her own flesh and blood, but the simple fact was if she did horribly, they all looked horrible. That wasn't something he was keen on. Ordinarily, he wouldn't give two shits, but the fact was that Vince and everyone else in the back were doing their best to bury the nWo. It was damn stupid and not something they could afford. He wasn't an idiot. He knew Vince's intentions by tossing in a couple of teen girls with zero experience and he couldn't let that happen.

"Remember, while you're falling, you're going to bend your neck and tuck your chin into your chest," Nash reiterated as his gigantic hand came to the back of her head and gingerly eased it downward. As he did so, he tried not the think of tangling his fingers into her soft tresses and guiding her face upward towards him in order to capture her delicate lips.

Instead, he pulled away and his hands grasped both of her tiny wrists. "You're going to stretch your arms out to help distribute your weight," he reminded her in a gentle voice and raised her arms until they were held out horizontally. Not releasing her, he slowly leaned her back, intending to demonstrate the manner in which her body should be positioned while falling.

Gasping, she was taken by surprise and she took a step back to right herself. Nash moved with her. As he did, Heather inched forward again, causing him to stumble over her tiny foot and sent them both crashing towards the mat.

Fortunately, he was able to brace himself enough to keep from completely smashing her delicate frame which was only a third his size. He hadn't crushed her bones, but he was keenly aware of the dainty form beneath him. Additionally, her tiny hands had grasped onto the sides of his shirt at some point during their tumble.

"Good going! Wow, what a couple of dorks!" Reves jeered.

"Kev, what are you doing, man?" Scott asked before breaking into a fit of laughter.

Kevin was conscious of Scott and Reves cackling like a couple of annoying hyenas, but for a few harrowing moments, his brain all but shut down. It left his only functioning senses to be the feel of the supple flesh pressed below him and the sight of the two shimmering emeralds staring up at him with astonished intrigue as his face hovered just inches above.

The air had been forced from Heather's lungs once their bodies collided. No, he hadn't squashed her underneath his gargantuan frame, but he robbed her of her breath all the same. His massive form bearing down on her was excruciating and magnificent all at once. It left her chest aching with a nameless desire. His warm eyes flashed with an expression that she couldn't quite identify. Lips parted slightly, his face lower towards her another inch or so.

He released something akin to a growl, then spoke, "Never mind. I think that's enough for today." His tone was even, but his face seemed distorted in anger. He suddenly pulled himself up and abruptly left the ring, expelling all manner of obscenities in his wake. "You fucking idiot," he roared as he began heading up the ramp.

Confounded, Heather sat up slowly as she watched him go and became disheartened at his profane outcries. A stabbing pain made its presence known inside her chest. It was plain to see, he thought of her as a nuisance and an all-around foolish girl. She glanced briefly over her shoulder. It was apparent that the other pair were oblivious to what had transpired between them as they reveled in their mockery.

Hastily rushing off in all his anger, Kevin stopped midway up the ramp when he caught sight of Mark at the top of the stage, studying the scene with an undecipherable expression. How long had he been standing there, and how much had he seen? Who cared? This was over.

A scowl further marred the blonde man's features as he trudged the rest of the way up the ramp. He halted again once he reached Mark. "Tell Vince he can fine me, suspend me. I don't give a flying fuck! I'm through with this bullshit of his," he spat before stomping to the back in a rage.


End file.
